


Fire and Magic

by Shimmer712



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Drabbles, Harry is Skull, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shimmer712/pseuds/Shimmer712
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After fifth year, Harry split from Dumbledore. Eventually, Voldemort perished and Harry left the Wizarding World and found himself involved in the world of the Mafia and Flames</p><p>It is canon according to the HP series up to the end of Book Five.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry couldn’t bring himself stay in Magical Britain. If he had to name a tipping point, he would pick fifth year, when Sirius had died and Dumbledore had finally revealed the Prophecy.

Why wait until then? He could understand not telling everything due to the old man’s concerns about Voldemort taking knowledge from his mind but why not simply state that a prophecy was made about the dark lord’s demise and he believed Harry would be his downfall. And why not mention the possibility of Voldemort taking knowledge from his mind. “Harry, there may be a mental link between you and the dark bastard. It’s uncertain as no one has survived a killing curse before you but it means that we will need to keep some information from you.” Yeah, he still wouldn’t be told anything, but at least he would know _why._

And it’s not like the prophecy turned out to be true – unless it was referring to what happened when his parents died. Voldemort had died because a dark spell he had cast had reacted badly to Hogwarts’ wards.  

Harry hadn’t gone alone when he left Dumbledore’s camp. Hermione had gone with him as had Luna and Neville.

Ron and Ginny had been conflicted, wanting to stand by their friends but wanting to stand with their family too. Eventually, Dumbledore’s insistance that they do not kill the death eaters and simply capture drove the younger Weasleys away. Fred and George had already followed Harry, Percy was working with the Ministry and the two oldest Weasley boys had accompanied their younger siblings and agreed to run evacuation systems, helping muggleborns and halfbloods escape. The two had been a bit uneasy about leaving the country while their siblings fought but couldn’t bring themselves to abandon those fleeing.

Other people joined Harry, mainly the younger generation. Some of them were disinclined towards violence and worked with Bill and Charlie, later taking over while the pair joined their brothers and sister.

Harry’s side lost people. That usually happened in War. And while the Second Blood War was smaller than the Wars in the non-magical world, it was still war. And war was hell.

Dumbledore hadn’t approved of their tactics. They took death eaters down hard and preferably permanently.  They reduced the number of death eaters that the old man could try to redeem. He had spoken to Harry, tried to talk him into choosing a different path.

Harry had hexed and disarmed him. And kept his wand just because.

He had been surprised when it tingled when he first brought it near his cloak though.

They had taken to calling themselves “De Mort”, as a way of showing what they aimed for. They would not offer forgiveness to rapists and murderers. They would not try to redeem the monster leading them.

Lord Voldemort had named himself “Flight from Death. They had named themselves “Of Death” and _would_ be his death.

Sometime after choosing their group’s name, the twins had gotten some alcohol which was shared around and they had taken to coming up with codenames for each other, something that they did to take the edge off things. Neville had been Vine, Luna had been named Whimsy, Ginny had been Dagger, Ron had chosen Spear for himself. They had elected Lore for Hermione, Oracle for Lavender, Seer for Parvati and Herald for Padma. Seamus, in a drunken moment, had proclaimed himself to be Boom with Dean becoming Artist.

There were some names that had been plain silly. Like Lilith Moon being labelled “Snooka-snooka bang”. Everyone understood her reasons for insisting on a change.

Harry couldn’t remember why he was designated Skull. Only that alcohol had been involved (they still didn’t know how the twins had managed to get their hands on so much booze).

Hermione had been the only one who had refused to touch alcohol ever and at one point, had asked Harry what his parents and Sirius would think. Harry had suggested that she rephrased that sentence to what would his mother think since his dad and Sirius were likely to approve as long as he didn’t get hurt.

Ron and Hermione were lost. Death Eaters had captured some of them and Harry, Ron and Hermione had been among them. Ron had been treated reasonably as a Pureblood. But Harry and Hermione had no such mercy and would forever carry the scars. Hermione, brave, brilliant, stubborn Hermione couldn’t hold out and broke mentally rather than betray them. For the rest of the time before their rescue, she had been a frightened and confused three year old in mind.

When they had been rescued, Ron, who had hated himself for being left untouched while his friends suffered, had fought fiercely for their escape and had been killed for it. Harry didn’t know how he held it together until they were in a secure location where it was safe to break down and cry but he did.

Hermione was taken to France and placed in an asylum where she was taken care of. Fleur’s family had influence and made it clear they would be unhappy if anything were to happen to the witch.

As months passed, he grew to hate Dumbledore. Dumbledore who was obsessed with the Greater Good and redemption. Dumbledore who was so convinced that only he knew how to proceed and what should be done. Dumbledore who had information but kept it to himself instead of giving it to those who could put it to use.

A few weeks after the start of what would have been his seventh year, Harry had gone to Hogwarts to try and get information from the old man. While he had been pretty much screaming at Dumbledore in his office, Voldemort had attacked with all of his Death Eaters. Harry supposed that taking out the leaders of the two opposing factions was too tempting for him to resist. The bastard almost certainly had some followers in the school, maybe some of his Death Eater’s children?

Voldemort had cast a spell. And then everything went wrong. A black dome had enveloped Hogwarts and Hogsmedge. And black…stuff had started to seep out and fall to the ground. Portkeys didn’t work, the people in Hogsmedge couldn’t apparate…only so many made it through the floo before the black stuff made everyone loss consciousness. Very few got out.

Harry didn’t know why he woke up in a castle of corpses and no one else did. Or why his hair had turned purple. His head had hurt so badly, his face was covered in blood and he couldn’t tell _who he was._ It seemed like he had a several hundred minds worth of memories shoved into his head simultaneously.

It had taken him several months, with help of some of the others who had been trained by their families in occulmancy and legilimancy to get everything sorted. All of his personal memories were organized in one area of his mindscape, a clearing with Hogwarts standing proud and the Dursley house off to the side. Then, down the path that in real led to Hogsmedge, were the foreign memories, organized as a large town with the memories divided into districts based on what they contained.

By then, it was at the would-be-end of his seventh year. The others had taken the ministry and actually established a decent system. The Gryffindors didn’t want any further dark wizards getting off because of corruption, Hufflepuffs wanted things fair,  Ravenclaws loved the intellectual challenge of coming up with a incorruptible ministry, and the Slytherins who had joined had no intention of leaving loopholes that could be used against them.

In all, they did a good job. Justin Finch-Fletchy became the new Minister of Magic and while Harry was recovering mentally, the Magical World began to recover.

Hogwarts didn’t reopen as a school. It just felt wrong to do so, when so many died there. Instead, it was given to Harry and a new school opened. It took a while to choose a name. They finally chose to call it the White Owl Academy of Magic. An image of Hedwig, wings spread in flight and talons extended in a purple ring became the school emblem.

Harry had cried when he found out. His beautiful owl had died during the war. She had slashed several throats of Death Eaters with her talons and gashed their eyes but for all of her manoeuvrability, she had been hit by a cutting curse.

Harry wished he had kept her in her cage more often. Maybe she wouldn’t have died then.

Harry had tried to stay in the Wizarding World but he kept looking and seeing adults who had either cowered or ignored what was happening while _children_ fought against murderers and rapists. Who had turned a blind eye to beatings in the streets because they were too scared or weren’t directly affected.

He entered the non-magical world and became a stuntman, performing tricks on a motorbike, using the name Skull DeMort. There were times when he thought he would die but he always recovered and he started riskier and riskier stunts. He became known as the Immortal Stuntman, he who was hated by death.

Then he got a letter about a summit of the selective seven. His curiosity peaked, he went, even though the whole thing smelled of a set up and he should have known better. Although he did contact friends, got some communication mirrors, was heavily layered with tracking charms and arranged for said friends to go storming if he failed to make a check in.

If it was a trap, the trappers would find themselves facing a bunch of pissed off, magic wielding war veterans.

(He would later find it ironic he was the only one who made such preparations. The only one who came close was Lal who had brought Colonello).

There he found out about Flames by listening to the others talk. And his survival made sense. His magic hadn’t been enough to save him so his Flames woke up and kept him alive. Although it didn’t explain why no one else survived.

The fact that there was a society based on these Flames didn’t seem too surprising. It made sense that something like that would be hidden. It was just a pity most of its users were of the criminal persuasion.

Then he was cursed into the form of a toddler. Which sucked. And the others had seemed to have dubbed him the scapegoat.

It would seem that Skull had unintentionally offended some of them since he didn’t know the customs regarding Flames. Skull had wanted to snort. They knew he was civilian before the curse, they knew had no connection to the world of Flame users despite his Flames being active…and they expected him to know that shit.

That alone had been enough to end the developing respect for them. The violent and abusive tendencies and the willingness to ignore or overlook the beatings had killed what was left.

As the years past, Skull looked at the other Acrobaleno, at people who had grown up in the World of the Mafia, who completely missed that there was more to him than what he was showing them despite having spent their lives in a world where deception was an everyday thing and wondered if he would ever respect or trust them.

(He would be surprised to realise one day that he _did_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about how Harry became Skull


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry visits Hogwarts after he has recovered from the Black Dome Incident.

Harry looked over the castle grounds.

While he had been recovering, Hogwarts had been cleaned up. From the appearance, you couldn’t tell that hundreds had died here. All the bodies had been cleaned up, the damage to the castle repaired and all the mess tidied up. Probably by the house elves.

But, even with all that, it was obvious something bad had happened. There was...it just felt ominous, despite the bright sunlight beaming down on the place. For its beauty, something about Hogwarts just felt sad.

Harry sighed and lifted a hand to push up his glasses before remembering he no longer had them. Whatever the Black Dome had been, it had fixed his eyesight. It had also left him looking less like a clone of his father. The relation was obvious to anyone who looked, but Harry now had plenty of his mother’s features.

Something he was grateful to since he no longer had her green eyes. If only his coloration had changed, he would have lost his only resemblance to her.

Harry vaguely wondered why his appearance had changed. It really didn’t make sense. Nor did the fact he survived.

He wasn’t the only one who had changed. Everyone now carried scars. Lavender had scars on her face and a mass of scar tissue on her back which she was having tattooed with the names of those from De Mort who died. A memorial she would carry with her. The Patil twins had been captured with Harry, Ron and Hermione and taken to Malfoy Manor. Everyone who had been imprisoned there had had their faces cut up. They were learning to hide their scars through various methods.

Harry really needed to get some lessons for himself. It was bad enough wizards and witches stared at his lightning bolt scar. He didn’t need even non-magicals gawking at him because of his face.

Harry swallowed and walked forwards, crossing the castle grounds and entering the courtyard.

_“Honestly, Ron. Will you grow up?”_

_“Blimey, I’m just having some fun, ‘Mione!”_

_“You have to admit, it was amusing.”_

_“Well, yes, but it wasn’t_ that _amusing, Harry.”_

Harry chuckled softly to himself as he approached the front doors.

_“Hey, Harry!”_

_“Hello, Colin.” How many times has this exchange happened today so far?_

Colin wouldn’t be greeting Harry ever again. Colin had died, facing off against Death Eaters while his little brother led muggleborn children away to find some place safe. Dennis had a nasty scar slicing down his face, one that had cost him his right eye and cut into his lips.

Harry made his up the staircases, avoiding the trick step.

“ _Ahh, dammit! Not again!”_

_“You okay, Neville?”_

_“I’m fine, I just forgot about the trick step.”_

_“Oh, that thing.”_

_“I hate it. Why is it even here?”_

_“Someone probably thought it was funny.”_

_“Someone was twisted.”_

Neville had burn scars up his wand arm –a Death Eater had cast a spell that had caused his wand to explode into a fireball that had enveloped his arm – and several more concealed under his clothes. Neville had really shone since fifth year.

Harry wondered if he was just a late bloomer or if maybe he had stopped trying to be his father like his Grandmother wanted.

As he continued through the halls, Harry recalled more memories. Ron and Hermione featured in most of them, but there were plenty involving the others.

The school seemed so empty. The ghosts had left. They were currently at the Black Manor, the Longbottom Manor and the Bones Manor. Except for Peeves. Fred and George had taken the poltergeist to the Lestrange Manor, given him supplies and told him to make a mess of the place and think up a list of supplies they could bring him to make things more interesting.

Peeves rarely obeyed anyone. But, as he had obeyed their request to make trouble for Umbridge, Peeves took to trashing the place with glee.

The lack of ghosts and people reminded Harry strongly of the fact so many had died. The whispers of the gossiping paintings only reinforced how empty the castle was.

His side in the War, the De Morts, had the least number of casualties. Almost of the Order had been in Hogwarts and Voldemort had brought most of his Death Eaters.

Harry had gone by himself to question Dumbledore. He hadn't seen the need to bring the others with him. If he didn't return, they would come for him. And for all of his obsession with the Greater Good and his controlling tendencies, Harry was certain Dumbledore wouldn't try to trap him. Convince him, nag him, but not imprison him in the one place he had called home. He had been the only person who had been within Hogwarts who wasn’t there as a student, a member of the Order or a Death Eater. The rest of the De Mort had been investigating a lead regarding how Voldemort kept himself from dying and raiding a Deather Eater house that had prisoners inside. Those they weren’t on either mission, were keeping their base safe or preparing to treat any injuries that would be presented when the others returned.

Harry shook his head. If he followed that train of thought, he would wind up back in morbid headspace.

He stopped and looked up the corridor. He had originally planned to go to the Gryffindor Tower, but maybe that was a bad idea. While plenty of his classmates had survived, all of them had scars, mental if not physical.

Harry shook his head and changed direction.

Maybe Dumbledore left something interesting.

\-------------------------

Harry looked at the covered portraits of the Headmasters and wondered if he would get anything useful out them. Then again, they had been pretty horrified at some of the things he had said to Dumbledore so it was possible they would keep quiet even if he could get them to stay awake long enough. Harry supposed that made sense. Previous generations had been very big on respect to your elders and that mindset was still in the current Wizarding World. Harry’s attitude towards Dumbledore had probably been horrifically foul from their perspective, even with justification.

Harry shrugged and continued looking through Dumbledore’s things.

“Huh,” Harry titled his head and examined the broken ring. “Now why is this here?” he mused, eyeing the ornate box in was in. Why would Dumbledore store a piece of broken jewellery so carefully? Harry supposed it could have been for sentimental reasons but it seemed more likely that it would be in the old man’s bedroom is that was the case.

Harry cast a number of charms, brows going up as he picked up several protective spells. “He really wanted it safe,” Harry mumbled. He noted the lingering traces of some sort of withering curse – gone now but it would have been lethal before. Harry carefully picked it up, wrapped it in a handkerchief, making sure it didn’t touch his skin and slipped it into his pocket. His spells said there were no longer any dangerous curses on it, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

As he continued to look around, he spotted polished, gleaming black stones on a shelf. One was separated from the others, on a small pedestal, silver devices on either side. In contrast, the other stones didn’t seemed to be on display, but tucked away for storage purposes until someone had use for them.

Harry looked at the stone on display and raised his wand, casting several spells to try and figure out what it was. He tilted his head at the results.

Apparently, the stone was storing something, although Harry wasn’t sure what. Other than, he wasn’t getting anything.  Shrugging, Harry reached forward and curled a hand around the stone.

And gasped as it glowed orange, the light covering the wizard. Shining with the orange glow, Harry stared at the stone.

It felt so warm. It made him feel complete. Like he had been missing a piece of himself, that was finally, _finally_ being returned to him. Like he had been cold and empty for so long he no longer noticed until the stone took that coldness and emptiness away and made him warm and whole. Harry curled his hand more firmly around the polished stone. He wanted to keep it, to take it with him.

_“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”_

Dumbledore had been many things. Manipulative, overly controlling, powerful. But for all his foolishness, he was also wise. The most dangerous traps weren’t then ones that hurt you, that made you want to leave.

The most dangerous traps were the ones that lured you in, made you want to stay, made you hate the idea of leaving.

Dumbledore had brought the Mirror of Erised into He had brought the Philosopher’s Stone, an object that he knew would lure a monster in wraith form to a building of children.

The Mirror had been left in an empty class room before being moved to the third floor corridor. It had been left where any could come across it and become enthralled and entrapped. The location of the Philosopher’s Stone was all but advertised, even if most did not know what was in the location broadcasted by Dumbledore at Harry’s first Welcoming Feast.

This object had been kept secret, tucked away from the world and left where Dumbledore could control who was exposed to it.

Was it safer than the Mirror, which had killed by leaving one too enticed by its images to leave for food and water or was it more dangerous?

Why had Dumbledore brought this here?

Harry reluctantly pulled his hand away, the glow fading to a faint light. He hesitated for a moment then turned away. Chewing his lips, Harry closed his eyes briefly before he forced himself to make his way to the door. He gave the stone one last, longing glance and left.

In his absence, the stone seemed to grow dull, giving an impression of sorrow.

\--------------------

Standing outside in the corridor, Harry took a deep breath and made his way down the passage. It was so tempting to turn around and go grab the stone. Shaking his head, Harry set off at a brisk pace, refusing to look back.

“Hello, Harry,” a familiar voice called cheerfully. Blinking in surprise, Harry turned.

“Hello, Nick,” he greeted. “Didn’t expect to see you here. I thought all the ghosts had left.”

Sir Nicholas sighed. “I know, but…” he shrugged, then scrambled to catch his head as it was unbalanced from its position. “They’ve decided not to reopen Hogwarts,” he finished quietly.

“They have?” Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The idea of children sitting around, taking lessons in a castle that had recently been filled with corpse seemed a bit creepy to Harry. And the air of sorrow cloaking the place…he could see why they would decide against reopening Hogwarts as a school.

But at the same time, the notion of Hogwarts not being a school, of staying empty of students and teachers seemed bizarre to Harry. While he had his negative experiences here – teachers trying to kill, being shunned for things he wasn’t responsible for, secrets and betrayal – not only did he also have fond memories of Hogwarts, it was the first place he didn’t feel like a freak, an intruder. The first place where he was accepted, where he had peers his own age willing to associate with him, where there were people willing to help. The place where he made his first friends and formed his first positive emotional connections to people.

The first place he called home.

The idea of Hogwarts being abandoned seemed a bit heartbreaking.

“I guess I can see why,” Harry murmured.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Sir Nicholas nodded wistfully, hands holding his head in place. “They’re talking of opening a new school, I hear.”

“That will be interesting,” Harry said.

“It will be,” Nick agreed. “I supposed I should make my way back. It was good to you, Harry.” Nick stood up straight and looked at Harry. “I supposed house Afflictions no longer mean anything, but I believe you can consider yourself the Pride of Gryffindor,” the ghost  proclaimed.

Harry smiled. “Thank you, Nick.”

Sir Nicholas nodded. “Good day, Mr Potter,” he said before vanishing through the wall.

Harry turned to stare out the window pensively.

“A new school, huh,” he muttered. “Well, I bet there won’t be any trick staircases.”

Harry spent several minutes, gazing out across the castle grounds before registering that someone else was there. Harry stared at Luna Lovegood, carrying a basket and making motions with an arm as she walked across the grass.

“What is she doing?” Harry wondered.

\---------------------

“Hello, Harry!” Luna greeted cheerfully. “Did Bill, Neville and Susan get the Whomplemites out of your head?”

Harry blinked, briefly confused before deciding she was probably referring to the three using occulmency and legilimency to sort out his head after the Black Dome Incident. “Oh…Yeah, I’m fine now,” he assured her. “Didn’t expect Neville to know legilimency and occulmency though.”

Luna looked at him – looked _through_ him- for a long moment then gave him a smile. “You’re not fine,” she said quietly. “Not yet.” Then she brightened. “And yes, Neville does know them, his Grandmother insisted he learn when he was little, although he says he didn’t get even the basics down until after you started the DA. Same with Susan,” Luna shrugged. “I guess they had more motivation to learn at that point. Their families were cut down to only a couple of members during the First Blood War, so both Mrs Longbottom and Madam Bones were a bit worried about losing their only remaining relative.”

“I see,” Harry mulled. “…Blood War?”

“It was about Blood Purity, so it seems to fit,” Luna shrugged. “The others seem to agree. Voldemort’s reign will probably be remembered by that name.”

“I guess.” Harry tilted his head back and looked at the blue sky. “What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked, lowering his gaze back to the blonde.

Luna gave him a sad smile and held her basket towards him. Harry peered into the opening.

“Seeds?” he asked.

“Flower seeds,” she confirmed. “Graves always have flowers. And this is where people died and since it isn’t going to be reopened as a school,” Luna shrugged her shoulders. “It seemed right to have something for the dead here.”

Harry considered her words.

“In the non-magical word,” he murmured. “They put crosses to remember the dead. You see them on the side of the roads where people died in car crashes.” He paused. “Maybe we should put some here. If Hogwarts isn’t going to be a school anymore, I mean.”

Luna looked at him.

“That is a good idea,” she said thoughtfully. “We should talk to the others about it. They want everyone to get together to talk about the new school. We can bring it up then.”

Harry nodded.

“Want some help with those seeds?” he asked.

Luna smiled. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this was because I plan to have a scene where Hogwarts is shown and there's a bunch of flowers growing wild around a number of crosses. It also gave some insight into the losses. 
> 
> Nick wasn't going to be there initially. He was supposed to be with the other ghosts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her Quidditch tryouts, Ginny talks to Harry.

 

“I can’t be a Harpy,” Ginny announced to Harry the next time they saw each other after her attempt to get on the Holyhead Harpies team. She had dropped by to visit him at the Black Grimmauld house (which was not the Black Manor. That was much more impressive).

“Tryout went badly?” Harry asked. Ginny shook her head. Harry cocked his head to the side, seeing if Ginny would say anything. When she didn’t, he mentally shrugged. She would talk about it if she wanted to.

“I’m not staying in Britain,” he told her. Ginny snapped her head up, eyes wide. “When I walk down the street, everyone stares at me because of the scars on my face unless they’re covered up. Then they stare because of my hair colour. You guys did great, they don’t know what I look like now. But they’re talking about how great it is that Voldemort is dead and how horrible it was and how it’s a good thing that he didn’t win and all I can think is that they did _nothing_ to stop him.” Harry clenched his fists. “If it was up to them, he _would_ have won, because they were happy to just go about their business, they ignored what was happen and didn’t do anything. A muggleborn was attacked in the street? Oh, how sad. A kid was killed? Tsk, tsk.” Harry bared his teeth in a snarl. “You know sometimes I hear people saying I’m a coward because nobody has seen the “Boy-Who-Lived” since the Black Dome incident? They hid away, let children fight and die and yet I’m the coward? Just because I’m not making public appearances?”

Harry snorted in disgust. “Honestly, a part of me blames them for everything. They let the Death Eatehrs off the hook when my parents died instead of actually making sure the guilty got punished. They let Voldemort’s support base stay intact, making it easy for him. They rejected everything that contradicted their delusion which made it easier for Voldemort to build his forces. I look at them and I want to hex them for being so pathetic and useless! You and the others, the rest of De Mort, you’re brilliant. I would trust you guys when it came down to it, I _know_ I can rely on you. Them?  I can’t trust any of them to do what’s right because they’ve shown they _won’t!_ They’ll just wait for someone else. Even if that someone else is a bunch of kids who should still be in class!”

 “And even without that, they have all this expectations they want me to live up to. Their precious golden boy,” Harry wrinkled his nose. He shook his head and continued in a quieter voice. “It seems like my whole life has been expectations. At the Dursleys’I was the freak nephew and scapegoat, at Hogwarts, I was the Boy-Who-Lived, Saviour, dark wizard and liar when it suited them…I don’t want any more expectations! I just want to be me with now expecting me to being anything!” He closed his eyes. “No more expectations, no more chains. Just me.”

Ginny listened and took a deep breath. “The thing about trust is why I can’t be a Harpy,” she said quietly. “I look at them and I remember that they kept playing, like nothing was wrong. Hell, one of their games was only a couple of miles from where muggleborns were locked up. I just look at them and wonder, if they had done something, anything, how many people would they have helped? Even if it wasn’t much, they could have done _something_. And if I need them, will they help me?” Ginny flopped down onto the thick rug, an arm over her eyes.

“Maybe it’s too soon for that sort of thing,” she said quietly. “It hasn’t even been a year since it all ended. Maybe everything is still too raw.” Behind her arm, she closed her eyes. “I kept expecting to see Mum and Dad,” she said.

“So what are you going to do?” Harry asked her quietly.

“I don’t know,” Ginny confessed. “I want something that involves travelling. I don’t want to be a homemaker. Maybe later, when I’m older, but I want to see the world first!”

“…Wanna travel with me?” Harry offered. “I’ve been going through my inheritance and I got Sirius’s flying motorbike. Been planning a solo road trip, see the world, maybe read up on my family history but there’s room for one more.”

Ginny considered. Travelling with Harry…she trusted him. She had adored her image of him when she was a little girl, she had crushed on him big time after she met him, she had been awe-struck when he saved her in her first year and she would willingly put her life in his hands if she asked.

Even after the time after Malfoy Manor, after Ron had died and Hermione had broke, when she tried to wake him from a nightmare and he had strangled her before recalling where he was, that he was safe.

If she travelled with him, maybe she would get to fulfil her childish dreams of marrying Harry Potter.

But, she wanted to be more than the silly little girl with fantasies of a dashing hero. She still cared for Harry, a part of her probably always would. But how much of that would be love for the Boy-Who-Lived? And she didn’t want a relationship that had its foundations in a celebrity crush.

“No, Harry,” she said. She sat up and curved her hand around his head. She leant forward and kissed him. She kept her lips against his for several long seconds before pulling away.

“…Uh?” Harry blinked at her. He was pretty sure it wasn’t normal to have a girl turn down an offer before dragging you into a snog. Granted, he didn’t exactly have a long line of former girlfriends, but he was sure Ginny’s actions were out of the ordinary. “…What was that?”

Ginny grinned at him before laying back down. “When I was little, I would tell everyone I was going to marry Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived,” she said. “I would play wedding games and everything. And then came my first year of Hogwarts which was horrible but then you saved me. It was like something out of a story. You were covered in grime and blood and looked a bit disgusting in hindsight but you seemed like the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.”

“…Okay?”

“And then I got to know you a bit better. And you still seemed amazing. But you were flawed as well. You have a temper, you tend to keep things bottled up until you have an outburst and, god, those are explosive. You can be a bit of a doormat at times, you can be lazy when it comes to bookwork,  you’re a bit insecure at times. But all that makes you, you. And it made more real, and more wonderful for it.”

 “But I don’t want a relationship based on those shallow feelings,” she continued. “Travelling with you would give me an opportunity to get together with you, but how much of it on my end would still be that little girl? And how much of it would be for Harry Potter, the real person and not Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived? I want a relationship that I _know_ is real on both ends. I don’t want to be with the guy I dreamed about because I’m that dumb kid. So, no. I won’t travel with you.” She would see the world on her own first, spread her wings. Maybe she would fall in love, or maybe she would ask Harry years later, when the high of victory and popularity had faded, maybe then she would ask if they could give it a go after all.

Harry blinked at her.

“I don’t think you’re that little girl anymore,” he said softly. “A kid acting on shallow feelings wouldn’t have considered any of that. You’ve grown up since we first met, honest.”

Ginny smiled at him. “Thanks, Harry.” Then she paused. “Wait. Did you say Sirius had a flying motorbike? Like Dad’s car?”

“I think it’s more your Dad had a flying car like Sirius’ bike,” Harry told her. “He got it as a graduation gift to himself. I think he loaned it to Hagrid when my parents died.”

“Oh,” Ginny considered. “You know, I don’t really get why I was surprised. I mean, a motorbike is so Sirius and he _would_ enchant it to fly.”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. He looked up at the clock.

“Where are you going to go?”

Harry shrugged. “I got a lot of property, mostly from the Black family. Turns out that while he was blasted off the family tree, he wasn’t disowned and was technically Lord Black so I got a lot from there. I guess I should check it out.”

“I could help,” Ginny offered. “It would be a lot faster, you checking one lot and me checking another.”

“That's an idea. There’s one property that I wanna look over pretty soon,” Harry said. “The new school still needs a place to be built and there’s a couple of places I own that look pretty good. Big grounds, a lake and a forest. The one I'm thinking of is pretty isolated so it will be easier to keep muggles away.”

“They’re going to get rid of that word,” Ginny informed him. “They’re now Normals, or Norms, muggleborns are First Gens or Newbloods, halfbloods are Mixedbloods and Purebloods are Oldbloods.”

“Bet the older folk don’t like it,” Harry noted.

“They can get stuffed. We fought, they didn’t. That means we get dibs,” Ginny snorted. “They’re going to have a proper orientation for the Newbloods. The most they got before was how to get to the nearest shopping centre, a brief summary of the statue of secrecy and how the banking system works. And that didn’t always happen!”

“I’m aware of that last point,” Harry said dryly. While he loved Hagrid, he had to admit the half-giant did not prepare the boy for Wizarding Britain. Hell, the man hadn’t even told him how to get onto the train platform!

“They’re planning on teaching stuff covered in Norm schools too,” Ginny informed. “And Norm studies will be mandatory for all wizarding raised kids. Justin is spinning as a step towards preserving the Statue of Secrecy and ensuring that it isn’t breeched through ignorance. There’s more stuff planned but I’m not really involved with that,” She shrugged.

“It’s getting late. Do you want to stay the night?” Harry asked, looking out the window.

“Please,” Ginny nodded. She hated waking up at the Burrow and going down to the kitchen to see the absence of Molly Weasley bustling about. It just made what was gone permanently more obvious.

“I’m not in the mood to cook, so, pizza?”

“I want pineapple,” Ginny told him.

“Hawaiian it is,” Harry agreed.

 “You know, I ‘m kinda glad we never got together or it would have been creepy,” Ginny mentioned.

“Creepy?” Harry raised a brow.

“Well, you looked just like your Dad, and do you know how many times someone told me I looked just like your mother?” Ginny asked. Harry scoffed.

“Whoever told you that was blind,” he told her. “The only thing you and Mum have in common appearance-wise is that you’re both European witches with red hair. And the last one is debatable.”

“How is the fact we’re both red heads debatable?” Ginny asked, curious.

Harry shrugged. “Different shades. Mum’s hair was much darker than yours. You have more orange in your hair than she did. And your facial structure is completely different. _My_ face looks more like hers than you.”

“Why did your appearance change?” Ginny wondered.

“At a guess? Dumbledore,” Harry said flatly. Harry shrugged at her look and elaborated. “Even thing Dumbledore did was for his vision of the Greater Good. Having me look so much like my father made me a living ghost to Wizarding World. And when he died, my looks changed. A lot of spells die with the caster.”

“Not sure what he gained for with Greater Good with that,” Ginny remarked. Harry looked up with a tired smile.

“No one does,” Harry told the witch. “For all his obsession with the Greater Good, he seems like never actually told anyone what it actually is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the HPGW ship was sunk by Ginny. Granted, she was aiming on docking it for a while then seeing if it would be sunk. Given time she may have decided to make a move regardless of her concerns that her feelings are based on her little-girl-dreams but given that Harry gets cursed, that won’t be happening.
> 
> This was to get rid of a pet peeve of main regarding that pairing. In later books, it wasn’t really acknowledged that Ginny used to view Harry as the Boy-Who-Lived and there wasn’t much showing her growing out of it. If anything, the notion she saw him that way was reinforced at Dumbledore’s funeral when she said he wouldn’t be happy unless he was chasing the dark lord and that was why she loved him. It would have been better if Ginny had said she knew Harry needed Voldemort gone, because he wanted to be normal and had no chance of being allowed that while Voldemort lived or something. Just something to show that no, Ginny wasn’t wrapped up in the image of the Boy-Who-Lived but honestly saw Harry Potter.
> 
> So Ginny gets a display of maturity here, showing she is self-aware regarding her emotions and showing that she did grow out of the Fan girl crush. Something she should have had in the series in my opinion
> 
> And yes, I removed the Mindscape and Snape chapters. The mindscape one will be put back in after the curse. But the Snape one doesn't really seem relevant to the plot so I'll probably leave it out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry supports the government the DeMorts made while he was out of commission, catches up with some friends and some gossip is shared.

 

“Thanks for endorsing me, Harry,” Justin said. Harry, clad in a glamour that mimicked his old appearance, just snorted and mumbled something about sheep.  Harry had a lot of political influence. Not only because he was the Boy-Who-Lived but also because Sirius had named him his heir when he was baby. And while Sirius may have been blasted off the family tree by his mother, he wasn’t removed from his position as Heir. The then Lord Black, Arcturus, Sirius’ grandfather had refused to disown him. Harry thought it was more due to pragmatism than sentiment. Having an heir candidate on each side of the War meant the Black family name would live on regardless of who won.

There was also the influence he had as the last of House Potter but that was far less than his role as the new Lord Black and the Boy-Who-Lived offered.

He was currently the Golden Boy of Magical Britain, due to leading the De Morts, rescuing muggleborns and halfbloods, doing what he could to protect the people. The fact he came out of the Black Dome Incident alive had people deciding he had landed a lethal blow on Voldemort and the dome was his dying vengeance that he managed to somehow survive.

No matter how many times Harry sent letters to the Daily Prophet explain this wasn’t the case. Instead, there were claims of heroic humbleness and the like.  

On the plus, it put Harry in a position where he could encourage progress. Like Justin’s bill regarding libel laws. Being a muggleborn, the lack of libel laws horrified him, especially given the lies that were spread and widely accepted. Justin had been working with Harry for several bills and reforms as his support gave the muggleborn a lot of clout. Ernie Macmillan and Zacharias Smith had presented that latest bill while Neville had seconded it. Justin had asked them because he thought that three purebloods showing their support would make it go over easier. 

The new government need all the support it could get because most of the old one had been killed off and the emptied positions filled by the younger generation. Many of whom hadn’t even graduated. So there was some opposition.  Fortunately, a number of them, like Susan and Neville came from influential families and managed to sway things in their favour. But it was struggle.

Harry felt guiltily relieved that he had been unable to take part in the formation of the new government. He had read the newspaper accounts and heard stories about what was happening was he was clearing his head with help from Bill and others who had learnt occulmancy, the whole thing sounded like one huge headache and a frustrating mess that he was happy to miss out on. But there was still some stuff to be done and throwing his support behind them made the new government’s position more solid.

Now that the meeting was over, Harry was leaving. Justin had chosen to accompany him while Ernie and Zacharias went off together as the two weren’t particularly close to Harry. Harry, Neville and Justin had headed for the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and relayed the results to the twins, Lee and Angelina who would pass it along to the rest of De Mort.

“It’s not like I disagreed with what you were doing,” Harry said. Which was true. To be honest, he was gleeful about what would happen when Skeeter tried her usual muck-racking. “Besides, it beats a Bloodhead getting into power and screwing people over with their bigotry.”

“Ugh!” Fred groaned at the thought. The others wrinkled their noses.

“It would be a shame, given what we all just finished with this previous year,” George said dryly. “I feel sorry for Susan, dealing with all those trials.” Susan and the De Morts who had followed her into Law Enforcement had taken to putting all the Ministry Workers and everyone who had ever been accused of being a Death Eater or a supporter on trial. They were determined to clean house and while they could not go after the entire population, they could go after those in authority and weed out corruption.

“She went ballistic at one Auror,” Angelina, one of those who had gone into Law Enforcement, informed them. “Tried to accept a bribe and she found out. Dead set on making sure everyone gets a trial and is questioned under vertiserum.”

“We know she is,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. All of the De Morts had already gone through their trials, for the sake of public image. Harry was the last since he had been recovering for most of them and he had been under a glamour for his, as to hide his new appearance. He liked not being instantly recognized by the public. Too bad the glamours only lasted so long or he would have one all the time for the scars on his face. As it was, he had to discreetly recast it during meetings when he was showing up in person so no one not in the know would find out about his new appearance.

“I know she hasn’t said anything yet but she’s grateful you backed her on that,” Justin said. “She’s just been so busy, as has everyone working with her.”

“I know. The last of the trials will be over soon, right?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, should be done within a month,” Justin said.

“Have you heard what Eloise Midgen and the rest of the New Department of Education have planned for the new school?” Neville asked.

“I know the location as I’m donating the place from the Black Estates,” Harry admitted. “And they’ll be teaching Mug- _Norm_ lessons as well as having a proper orientation packet.”

“Well, they were intending on having to buildings. One of magic lessons and one for Norm lessons,” Fred explained. “But they found that magic doesn’t stop electricity.”

“Huh, really?” Harry asked. “Hermione always said that it did according to _Hogwarts: A History_. But I guess it makes sense. I mean, Diagon Alley is in the middle of London I never hear anything about there being trouble with power there.”

“Same with the Ministry building and St Mungos,” Justin added.

“It was either the wards or anti-norm propaganda,” Lee explained. “They’re warding a housing with the wards they have planned for the school to see how it effects electricity. That will determine how many buildings they have. They also got the Sorting Hat from Hogwarts and asked it if it would sort students at the new school. But they’re against sorting according to traits and want it to make sure that people who absolutely hate each other or are incompatible won’t be rooming together.”

“I hear Daphne Greengrass came up with something they’re planning to use?” Justin looked at him. Lee nodded.

“Yeah, she suggested having the classes being mixes of all the houses rather than just one house or two paired together. Neville was all for it since it means the houses won’t be so cut off from each other,” he said.

“It sounds like they’re taking what was wrong at Hogwarts and making it right,” Harry said softly, feeling a bit guilty for doing so. In hindsight, Hogwarts had had a number of flaws, the housing system one of them.

Lee shrugged. “I know the first thing Neville insisted on was that there be no trick stairs. He was adamant on that.”

“With good reason!” Neville asserted. “Those things were annoying as hell!”

“I thought they were pretty funny,” Fred smirked.

“Really?” Justin shrugged. “Well, I better go. It was nice catching up with you all. See you around.” He raised a hand in a wave then left. In the street, he paused and turned back. Maybe it had been his imagination due to gossip he had heard from other De Morts, but the way Harry phrased his words in some of their discussions regarding the future gave him the impression that he was planning on leaving the Magical World. Justin supposed he couldn’t blame him if he did but he hoped the new government had enough support by then to deal with the public’s reaction.

Shaking his head, he turned and walked away. While he and Harry were friends now, rather than distant acquaintances then allies, he wasn’t close enough to the other to call him out on leaving. Especially since Harry’s childhood had been sacrificed for the sake of the Wizarding World thanks to Dumbledore.  And especially given his past offences against Harry like in second year.

Justin hoped that if Harry did leave, he’d stay in touch somehow.

“So what else has been happening with you, Harry?” Angelina asked. Harry shrugged.

“Found out I have a minor metamorphic ability. And that that’s not unusual even if no one’s mentioned it.”

“Oh, right,” Fred winced at the reminder of Harry’s lack of education regarding Wizarding culture and how they just assumed he knew stuff. “In our defense, the reason no one bothers talking about is _because_ they’re so minor. And it’s not like it’s every day stuff.”

“So what can you do?” Lee asked.

“I can change my nail colour,” Harry said. He held up a hand and had his nails cycles through the colours of the rainbow.

“Ooh,” Angelina said. “Wish I could do that. I would save on nail polish and not having to worry about it chipping.”

 “I’m also finalising the land donation for the new school” he said. “The education department looked over some of my properties in Britain and we found on that will do quite nicely. It’s in Scotland.”

“Will Nessie be the new aquatic mascot?” Fred asked. “She can feature in Care of Magical creatures when they cover kelpies!”

Harry laughed. “It’s not near the Loch Ness,” he smiled.

“But there is a lake,” Neville added. “They want to have the boat ride we had at Hogwarts for first years. With roofs on the boats in case of rain.”

“And warded to keep people from falling out if possible,” Harry smiled fondly at the memory of an excited Dennis Creevy bundled into Hagrids coat.

It had been oddly painfully to see Dennis become grim after Colin died ensure his younger brother and several muggleborns escaped safely. Dennis had lost an eye to that incident but he understandably viewed that as a minor loss in comparison.

Harry shook himself out of memories and decided to bring up why he came here. “Did you two manage to replicate the mirror Sirius gave me?”

Fred grinned at him. “Sure did. We’re not sure if we should market them or not. Maybe wait a few years until everything’s settled first. Unless you’re against it?”

Harry shook his head. “I would rather not talk to people by sticking my head in a fire, thanks,” he said dryly. “Speaking of talking to people, do you know if Bill is available? I want someone to go through the Black house at Grimmauld and I figure Bill would have idea of who to ask for that.”

“Sure, he’ll know someone. He could do it himself but it would take a _long_ time, with all that junk. Best to have a team under contract,” George nodded. “We’ll give you his address. His place is called Shell Cottage. He’ll be home tomorrow and won’t mind if you drop in.”

“Have you restarted the joke shop?” Neville asked Fred.

“Yep, but we’re expanding beyond pranks,” Fred admitted. “Some of products, like our fireworks? Trigger stuff for some people. We’re coming up a type of firework that isn’t flash-and-bang but calmer and softer. And some people react badly to some things, like how Sally-Anne can’t handle whistles, so we want to come up with some items for them to block out their triggers. We’re also looking at combining chocolate with a potion version of the cheering charm and maybe with the dreamless sleep potion.”

“But the dreamless sleep potion is addictive if you take too much,” Harry frowned. “And there isn’t a potion version of the cheering charm, is there?”

“Not yet,” Angelina snorted. “These two plan on making one and modifying the dreamless sleep potion to lose the addictive properties.”

“…How did you two tank your potions O.W.Ls?” Neville wondered.

“Didn’t want to put up with Snape and knew no one would force us to take more classes with him if we flunked it,” Fred shrugged. “We learnt more outside of class than from him anyway.”

Harry couldn’t argue with that. Snape didn’t actually teach them. He just wrote the recipe on the board and stalked around the classroom, looking to intimidate non-Slytherins. The drop in aurors and healers wasn’t solely due to deaths during the first Blood War, after all.

Of course, they couldn’t blame Snape alone for that. Dumbledore did allow it. And while Snape was a spy, he was a spy who was known. Dumbledore, when Snape first started abusing his students, should have put a stop to it. Snape could have easily claimed that he wanted to stay close to Dumbledore for information and protection and needed to keep the man’s support to remain in his position to explain why he wasn’t favouring the Slytherins outrageously but instead, Dumbledore chose to have their education sacrificed.

“I hope the new school will have standards for its teachers,” Harry muttered.

“Eloise and the other have been setting up something so you can’t have a Ministry position while working at the school,” Neville answered. “Don’t want another Umbridge and Dumbledore didn’t spend enough time as a Headmaster rather than a politician. They’re also limiting how many positions a simple person can hold. Two max.”

“That’s a good idea,” Angelina noted. “McGonagall wasn’t much of a Head of House. She never supported us against unfair detentions and she was never really available outside of class.”

“She was spread too thin,” Lee agreed.

“Have any of you heard from Oliver?” Harry asked, changing the subject.

“He got a prosthetic foot through the norm world and is learning how to balance himself on a broomstick with the different weight on one side of the body,” Fred replied.

“Once he’s done that, he’s going to try and get his position as a reserve keeper back,” George added. Oliver had initially stayed with his career, sending what he could afford to help the evacuees settle in their new country and scoping out what countries would be willing to accept them. But he had decided to he needed to do more after Harry, Ron and Hermione were captured and imprisoned in Malfoy Manor and joined the De Morts. That decisions had cost him his left foot.

Still, it looked like he had a way of regaining his position so Harry guessed it wasn’t all bad. If it had been a injury that destroyed any chance of his being a professional quidditch player, Oliver probably would have had a breakdown.

The group continued chattering to each other before deciding to return to their homes for dinner. Harry returned to Grimmauld Place. He glanced at the newspaper on his table as he headed for the stairs. It seemed that the new Government was getting to be well established. A few more weeks and he should be able to leave without any worries. It wasn’t like he was urgently needed. He was just garnering public support for the De Morts who had taken it upon themselves to ensure that their society didn’t collapse. They could manage without him. They did when he was sorting out his brain. Besides, they could always call him if something came up.

Maybe he should start planning his trip. He always wanted to go overseas.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Ginny did mention Harry is planning to leave to others, hence why Justin mentioned gossip about that possibility. 
> 
> Headcanon: a Full metamorphamagus like Tonks is ridiculously rare. However, minor metamorphic gifts aren't. So while the majority won't have such a gift, they still show up frequently in wizarding society. Normally on the same scale as Harry's: Minor to the point of not being worth mentioning.
> 
> At least he won't having to worry about chipped nail polish when he starts his stuntman career.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill contemplates recent discussions. Harry visits Lavender who points a problem that has the potential to become big.

Traditionally, every wizard and witch kept a journal, to pass on to their descendents. James Potter had been raised traditionally and had kept a journal. Lily Potter had kept a diary since she was a young girl and took to the journal tradition easily.

Bill had explained this to Harry while he was making arrangements for the Black House on Grimmauld Place. Imprisoned in his childhood home, Sirius had fairly miserable and the more compassionate members of the Order had often engaged him to try and cheer him up.  Bill had hated pointing out to the boy that the journals were unlikely to be in his family vaults. After all, they had probably been in the house when Riddle attacked them when Harry was a baby. So it was possible that they had been destroyed or taken by someone as a souvenir, which had happened.

The sheer disappointment on Harry’s face, finding out there was a way to get to know his parents and his opinions only to find that means probably didn’t exist made Bill feel like dirt for bringing his hopes up and then knocking them down. Hardly anyone talked to Harry about his parents, and when they did, it was normally his father. Sirius and Remus were understandable, James had been their friend for years and they had shared stories about Lily even if most of their tales were about James. But almost everyone else simply said Harry had his mother’s eyes. A few teachers made a couple of offhand remarks about her being a brilliant student and that was it.

No wonder Harry’s eyes had lit up when they had encountered Horace Slughorn, a former potions teacher taking advantage of their evacuations. Lily had been one of his favourite students, if not _the_ favourite. He had instantly sought Harry’s attention once he saw the boy, which tied in with what he recalled of the man and his tendency to nurture connections with those of influence or potential.  Slughorn had showered the boy with stories of his mother. Harry had been fascinated. Aware of the man’s shallower reasons for seeking him but happy to hear about his rarely discussed mother.

Bill had like the story of Francis, the flower petal-fish Lily had made the man. He had felt sympathy when the man talked about how he had gone downstairs one morning to find the fishbowl empty and realizing Lily was dead. The man was clearly sad at the memory.

Bill wondered if he should have followed the man up on a detail he had let slip. Namely the implications that Riddle had had used a dark magic he did not want known.

_“He was very charismatic,” Slughorn told them. “Handsome, intelligent, charming. So many people feel under his spell. Poor Hagrid was accused of Miss Warren’s death. True, few people believed he was Slytherin’s Heir but him having a dangerous pet that killed people? That was all too plausible.” He shook his head sadly. “If only we had investigated more closely. Maybe we could have stopped things there.” Slughorn shook his head. “At least I can take comfort in the fact I tried to stop him.”He sighed. “Although I sometimes wonder if things would be better if I had not.”_

_“What did you do?” Harry asked. He hadn’t ever heard someone claim to have recognized the threat Riddle showed and responded by trying to stop him. There were some who had recognized he was an upcoming threat but hadn’t done anything to try and stop him like Dumbledore, but saying they tried to stop him? That was a new one._

_Slughorn gave a wan smile. “In addition to potions, I’ve learnt a number of obscure magics. A number of them dark,” he admitted. “I wanted to know if they were truly dark or just labeled as such. I tended to share extra information with Tom since he was such a promising student. Then, one day, he asked me about a horrific type of magic. And he was contemplating a horrifying possibility with that magic. If it wasn’t for that, I would have remained blind to his true colors. I probably wouldn’t have considered that he and the Dark Lord were the same person. But I was aware of his true nature and not only did I stop giving him those extra lessons but I used my connections with influential former students against him.”_

_“What did you do?” Neville asked before anyone else could._

_“Are you aware that despite having top grades and being Head Boy, after graduation, he worked as a shop clerk in Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley? Hardly a glamorous position, is it? Quite lowly compared to what was expected of him.”_

_“Dumbledore mentioned that,” Bill said. “Apparently it was a good position to find dark artifacts.”_

_Slughorn scoffed. “I’m sure he said that to any who asked. The truth is he couldn’t get a job elsewhere. I called everyone I could, department heads, the Chief Healer at St Mungos, Solicitors and I lied. I told them he was a thief, a coward, a useless, lazy brat whose one skill was the ability to charm people. With so many influential people thinking the worse of him, it seemed like his ambitions were cut off. He had no one of getting into a influential position, no way of influencing society to fit his vision.”_

_“And it would have worked,” Bill muttered. “Only he had the power and charisma to convince people to follow him and become a dark lord.”_

_“Aye,” Slughorn nodded. “So I wonder, are all those death’s my fault? Or would he still have killed people but simply ensured there were laws and loopholes allowing him to do so? Would he have been a great leader, my fears unfounded or would he have turned our world into a Nazi Germany?" Slughorn shook his head. "At any rate, he's no friend of mine. Not only do I know about his interest in that particularly magic, I sabotaged his chances of getting into a position of influence. I have a good reason to run from him, even if I am pureblood.”_

Bill wondered if Slughorn had revealed his actions out of guilt, or because it made him look like a tragic hero who had tried to stop a monster from rising to power only to fail.

One thing that got Bill’s approval towards the man was the gifts he gave Harry. Slughorn had kept every letter and photo he had ever received from Lily. And he had arranged for copies to be made. He had given these to Harry. Slughorn had no reason to keep those letters but he had and he had shared them with Harry. He must have really been fond of Lily. Those were personal, between him and Lily but he still shared them with her son with no prompting at all. He had considered the orphaned child of his favorite student and ensured that child had something to remember his mother by, unlike those who had raided the ruins of their house in Godric’s Hollow for souvenirs.

Bill had nothing but contempt for those who had gone to the ruins of the Potter’s house and helped themselves to what was there. By all rights, those things should have been stored away to give to Harry. Especially the journals. Those were private and for family only.

As he left Gringotts, Bill considered approaching some of the other members of DeMort and arranging a reward to be offered to be anyone handing the journals over. Of course, he would have to talk to Susan to ensure that the reward was accompanied by a punishment for theft. Then again, would anyone who stole from the house actually hand anything over, even for a reward?

Then again, a lot of Sirius' stuff was still stored away in the evidence rooms of the DMLE. When he had been arrested, his flat had been raided and possessions confiscated. So maybe his journal was there? He'd have to ask someone to look into it.

He raised a brow as he passed a group of mug- _New Bloods_ talking about the non-magical world. Or the “Nonm” world as they were calling it. Even though it had been agreed to call the non-magicals “normals” due to the fact they outnumbered wizards vastly, some of the New Bloods hadn’t liked referring to their families as “normal”. So they had taken to using the term “Nonm”, which made Bill (and probably others) think of "nom-nom", the mock chewing noises. And apparently the term “mundy” had been thrown out there too (apparently it came from a comic series). Bill wondered if the different terms would cause some confusion at some point.

Bill considered his job with Harry, He and the other cursebreakers were to store the cursed items in the basement. Harry wasn’t following Dumbledore’s example and throwing them out for anyone to help themselves to. Bill approved of this since he had recognized some objects the Death Eaters had used against them and had cursed Dumbledore and the Order for just throwing them out and allowing Dung to steal what he wanted. The smart thing would have been to put them all in the basement or something and seal it off so they would stay out of the hands of Death Eaters. Instead, those objects had been used against them.

There was a contract that the entire team would have to sign, to ensure that they did their job and nothing else. Some cursebreakers had very sticky fingers, unfortunately. Once all the curse objects had been identified, Bill could arrange for some to be brought by Gringotts for the purpose of training cursebreakers. The rest would be uncursed if possible or simply destroyed.

Bill paused and detoured into Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Palour and greeted the witch behind the counter, Fortescue’s daughter. She hadn’t been a member of DeMort. Her father had forced her and her family to leave while the war was going on. He had chosen to stay behind and was later kidnapped and killed by Death Eaters, although why he had been singled out and targeted, Bill had no idea.

Ginny had declared her intentions to leave home and travel. It was just a matter of financing her trip. She had gotten mopey when one of the twins had pointed the probable costs and her lack of money. Ice cream might cheer her up though.

Bill blinked and groaned to himself when he realized he had passed up on a possible solution. Harry had inherited a lot of estates thanks to Sirius. Bill could have asked him to consider hiring Ginny to check on those estates and ensure their upkeep.

He’ll have to ask the next time he saw Harry.

\------------------------

Harry had been disappointed to find that his parent’s journals weren’t in their vaults. But he did find out about three family estates. One, the oldest was in Ireland. It was a large cottage, big enough to comfortably house the Weasley Family (named Atelier Cottage) and massive grounds that included a large forest and some farmland that was rented out. Apparently, while his ancestors had never been prominent in politics, they had, at some point gained ownership a very large piece of land somehow, maybe as payment for a favour or job? However, it was far too isolated to be a practical choice of residence. So it was mostly for vacation and research purposes. The grounds supplied many materials from research and some people had permission to go harvest from there. In fact, the wood from Harry’s holly wand came from the Ancestral Estate.  The second had been the house his father grew up in. It had been smaller than Atelier Cottage but large enough for a small family to live comfortably. However, it had been destroyed by Death Eaters in the First Blood War. The last was the house in Godric’s Hollow, where his parents had died.

Harry would be going there after his visit with Lavender. He had planned on stopping by her place to see what she and Parvati wanted later on in the day but that was before he found out about his parent’s journals and planned to go to Godric’s Hollow. He wasn’t sure what sort of mindset he would be in after that first so he would see Lavender first.

He wondered what she wanted. She had implied it would be a business meeting but he wasn’t sure how he could help since he was no business man. Although he now had a passing familiarity with his own family’s businesses, which was mainly investments, royalties and the rented farmland. Even if he had to find and locate the lawyer’s firm and send someone after some of the renters who had been defaulting on their payments. Apparently some of them had felt that without the last Potter knowing about them, the lands were as good as theirs (it wasn’t the first time someone who tried to withhold payment – some families had been renting for generations and sometimes a person got the idea it was their family’s property, not just rented).

Harry had told the lawyer in charge of the case, a Micheal Woodmore, to have any back pay given to St Mungos or any restoration projects. He didn’t need the money, not really. His family may not have been one of the Sacred Twenty Eight or viewed as nobility but they had still been wealthy.  But he didn’t want to encourage the deadbeats in their actions. They were technically committing a crime, but Harry didn’t particularly want to press charges, not with Susan and her lot so busy finishing up the trials.

He hated portkeys and apparition and he didn’t know if the two lionesses had floo so he had opted for a cab to take him to the address Lavender gave. It was a nice neighbourhood, with trees lining the road. After paying the cab driver, Harry admired the house Lavender and Parvati had chosen and walked up the path to door.

\-------------------------------

Lavender flipped through the papers and sighed. She wasn’t sure if Harry would listen to her, but out of all of De Mort, he was the best choice. He was the Icon, the Idol, the one people would listen to. So she would have to ask him and try and get him to see things her way.

The blonde sighed. Throughout Hogwarts, she and Parvati had been disdainful towards Wizarding fashion once a New Blood had shown them some fashion magazines they had brought from home.  They had planned for years to open a clothing store. They had been coming up with designs, saving them even when in hindsight they didn’t seem that good, coming up with idea for the name and toying with possible logos. But with the current state of things, that wouldn’t be happening for a while.

But at least their looking into opening a store led to this issue being found out before things could get really bad. Now they had a chance to nip things in the bud

“Well, at least if Harry agrees to help, the store will be much closer to reality,” she told herself.

A knock on the door drew her attention.

Lavender looked at the clock and frowned. Harry wasn’t due to show for another hour, Parvati wouldn’t be home until about dinner time (and she wouldn’t knock since she lived here) and she hadn’t introduced herself to her neighbours. So who could it be? Lavender carefully palmed her wand and cast a silencing spell of her shoes before soundlessly moving towards the entranceway. She ghosted up to the front door and peered through the peephole.

She relaxed in relief upon seeing the purple form on the other side. Harry had shown up early, it seemed. Lavender shot a look at the foe glass she kept close to her front door. All the figures were vague and indistinct so there were no threats nearby. She grimaced at the scars marring her face. Slipping her wand up her sleeve, Lavender smoothed her skirt and opened the door.

“Hi, Harry!” she beamed happily, stepping aside so he could come in. She got a smile in return.

“Hey, Lavender,” he murmured, steeping through the door. Lavender closed the door and led him to the sitting room. She studying him closely. She could see that while his hair was still messy, many of his facial features had changed. Now he seemed somewhat feminine in appearance. A closer look at his arms revealed that the hairs there were also purple.

“Anyway, me and Parvati, we were kinda hoping for your help with something,” she told him nervously. “You know how a lot of people left during the Blood War?

“I remember,” Harry commented. “So many people were so scared. A lot of them had kids they were worried would be taken.”

Lavender nodded. “At any rate, with so many neutrals and light-sided people leaving and the majority of the dark dying, we have so few people left behind. Not enough to work out in the long run,” she admitted.

Harry blinked in surprise. “Really? Ginny tried out for the Harpies, the Ministry is working even if the clean up isn’t finished, the twins’ shop is going great, the new school has it’s lands ready and waiting and the people have been making great progress with their plans, and people in  Diagon Alley have been re-opening stores.”

Lavender gave him a wistful smile. “The Harpies and other Quidditch teams have overseas sponsors, and lots of the dark supporters were into it so they wouldn't interfere there. The twins are known for being part of the war effort and being close to you so they have a lot of publicity there. Most of the Ministry Workers aren't interested in being there in the long term, just to get things settled. And while they have plans established for the school, they still have to get other settle. The land is just one issue that they no longer have to worry about. They still need to get teachers, figure out the tuition, get the place built and warded and so on. And while a lot of stores have been reopened, some haven't. And even those that have reopened aren't hiring anyone at all, partially because they're still a bit afraid and partly because they don't have enough business to cover that." Lavender heaved a sigh. "We need to bring people who left or everything's going to fall apart."

Harry grimaced. "That sounds like a real problem," he admitted. "But why bring it to me? I've been out of touch and I'm still catching up on things that have happened since the incident." He tugged a lock of purple hair. "Neville's taking over running things with Justin being the Minister, Susan taking care of Law Enforcement...I'm not running anything. I'm just backing them up when I can. So why me?"

Lavender looked at him. "Because _you're_ our leader," she told him. "Not Neville, not Susan, not Justin. _You_. You're the one who stood up and said "no" to Dumbledore and his manipulations. You're the one who taught us how to defend ourselves-"

"That was Hermione's idea," Harry pointed out.

"And she tried to back out of it when Sirius gave his approval, and cursed a parchment to ensure we could identify anyone who blabbed but didn't think to warn us to discourage that sort of thing or to hex the list so we couldn't tell anyway," Lavender answered. "Do you think that tramp Marietta would have tattled to Umbridge and risk all of us if she knew the parchment had been hexed?"

"Probably not," Harry admitted. "I didn't think you hated Marietta that much."

"She ratted us out to Umbridge," Lavender said coldly. "Yes, she was worried for her mother's job but she knew what sort of person that cow was. There were plenty of Ravenclaws who got a detention with her and her quill. What did she think would happen? While she probably would have gotten off due to being a sneak, what about everyone else, including her so-called best friend Cho? We all would have been expelled at the best. Knowing Umbridge, she would have pushed to have us sent to Azkaban. Even if she failed at that, those of us who had yet to sit our OWLs would have had our wands snapped and banned from buying a new one. She was willing to destroy our futures. All to get the favor of a sadistic toad."

"..." Harry stared. He hadn't thought about what would have happened if Dumbledore hadn't taken the fall. He had been in shock over the event and stressed over the fact Umbridge had control and trying to cope with her constantly targeting him, Snape's pitiful excuses for Occulmancy lessons and his visions from Riddle.

In hindsight, the possibilties were quite chilling.

"Anyway," she continued. "You founded De Mort, you gave those who didn't want to fight a way out of the country, unlike Dumbledore, who didn't bother to arrange evacuations and simply sent Order members to the rescue when he got word, which was often too late. You made sure we weren't bullied, punishing those who tried. You didn't just tell us what to do, you gave us information we needed instead of keeping it all to yourself like Dumbeldore did. You led us, you taught us, you fought with us, and you protected us. We trust you. _You're_ the one we follow."

Harry stared at her, shocked. It hadn't occurred to him that there were people that loyal to him.

...He really hoped he didn't have his own version of Bellatrix Lestrange...

"That's one reason I came to you about it," Lavender said. "The other is because you're in the best position to fix it."

"...How?" Harry asked, confused.

Lavender blinked at him as though she was unsure if he was serious or not. When he made no further comment, she rolled her eyes and smiled.

"You're the Boy-Who-Lived," she reminded him. "You're the one people will recognize and listen to. We've sent messages saying it's okay but I think they're scared that it's a trick. If you go, they'll listen."

"They'll expect the old me," Harry pointed out, running a hand through his hair.

"You've been using glamours, so just use those," Lavender suggested.

"Some people have been telling me those glamour are a bit off," he said dryly.

"And how many of those are people who haven't spent years with you and know exactly what you look like rather than a close approximation?" Lavender asked. She was certain that Harry only got away with his glamours because those who didn’t know about his changed appearance only looked for black hair, green eyes and his famous scar and didn’t really notice the other details. Those who actually knew him reasonably well could tell little details that were off even if they couldn’t tell what it was. Seamus had been quite frustrated about how he couldn’t tell what was off about Harry’s appearance and had spent most of the afternoon, following the glamoured young man trying to figure out exactly what was wrong (He never did but Dean claimed that the shape of his cheekbones and his nose were slightly off). But for the most part, the majority didn’t notice that there was anything wrong with his appearance.

Which struck Lavender as somewhat sad. _Everyone_ knew Harry Potter’s name and knew his story, even before he did with the Magically Raised. But So many of them missed that Harry was in glamour and got subtle details wrong, even those who had obsessed over him for years, like Romilda Vane (one of the few members of DeMort who had been blacklisted from finding out what his new appearance was, and ideally would never know his looks had changed. Her fixation on him was a bit scary). Lavender, her Gryffindor year mates, and the members of DeMort who had worked the most with Harry could pick up that his glamours were imperfect but very few others could even if they proclaimed to have loved him for years. With Harry being such a public figure, it seemed like more people should have noticed the flaws in his glamours.

Maybe being famous simply meant a lot of the time you were alone even while surrounded by a lot of people.

Lavender shook herself out of her thoughts and refocused on the conservation. "Anyway, we were hoping you would and talk to the evacuees, see if you could get some of them to come back."

Harry looked at her. "I'll need to tie things up here first. And I can't promise that they'll come back because I asked them to."

"But you have a better chance of success than anyone so that's all we can ask," Lavender answered.

Harry sighed. "Well, I have been wanting to leave and take a trip," he admitted. "If I'm serious about that, I see no reason why I can't help with this."

Lavender beamed. "Thank you, Harry." She glanced at the clock. “I guess since I won’t be waiting for you to visit, I’ll go for a walk after you leave,” she told him. “Once I’ve put my makeup on.”

“Make-up?” Harry asked. Lavender winced, realizing she said the last part out loud.

“To hide my scars,” she admitted, gesturing to her face. “Silly and shallow, I know, but I miss having an unblemished face.”

Harry stared at her for a moment. “…Teach me?” Lavender blinked in surprise.

“Makeup won’t make you look like your old self,” Lavender pointed out. She frowned, studying him. “Your facial structure is completely different now, more delicate.  I wonder why it changed.”

“Best guess is that it’s Dumbledore’s doing,” Harry shrugged.

Lavender shook her head. “That wouldn’t explain the colour differences. The change in the shape of your face, sure, but I doubt the purple is inherited.”

Harry frowned. “I just kinda assumed Dumbledore wanted me to be some sort of living ghost and reminder for the First Blood War.”

“Maybe, but I think someone would have said something if you had purple eyes and purple fuzz on your head as a baby,” Lavender told him. “At any rate, it’ll take more than makeup to look like your old self if that’s what you’re after.

Harry pulled a face. “I know,” he said. “But I want people to see me.”

“…” Lavender tilted her head. “That one flew over my head. Mind elaborating?”

“Before, people always saw my curse scar before they saw me. For a lot of people, it was all they saw,” Harry said quietly. “After my appearance changed, they don’t see that scar anymore unless I have a glamour on. They see the other scars. They still don’t see me. So they keep staring without actually looking me.”

Lavender looked at him in consideration.  “Sure, why not?” she smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Lavender is harsh towards Marietta. But while Marietta was afraid for her mother's job, that should have clued her into what sort of person Umbridge was and what the others could have expected to happen to them as a result of her snitching. And given Lavender looked up to Trelawney who encouraged predicting disasters, she was probably quite capable of figuring out how bad things could have gotten.
> 
> And I think her mother's job was only part of it. Don't forget, Marietta was Cho's friend and Harry left Cho in a date to meet up with Hermione, the girl who came up with the idea of the DA. And Harry saw Cho's boyfriend murdered and was relunctant to talk to her about. There's a chance Marietta was out for revenge for a friend's hurt feelings, telling herself Harry and Hermione deserved it for hurting Cho like that? Not very rational given that Cho would be in trouble too along with everyone else, but maybe she thought Harry and Hermione would be singled out and everyone else would get a slap on the wrist? (Although that would have been quite stupid of her, given her experiences with Umbridge).


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry visits Godric's Hollow

How long has it been? Harry wondered as he wandered through Godric’s Hollow, admiring the town. It occurred to him during Lavender’s makeup lesson that he had lost track of time at some point.

He had gone to yell at Dumbledore in person and got caught in the Black Dome Incident at Hogwarts a little bit after the school year started for what would have been his seventh. He remembered that. He also remembered that that when he woke up, confused, disorientated and freaking out, he had been told that nearly a week had past. So that would be late September, early October, right?

Then he had been sorting out his mind with help for those who know some legilimancy and occulmancy. How long had that taken? Harry was sure it was several months but the calendar showed it had been less than three. He remembered it being winter and there being Christmas decorations but he couldn’t really remember celebrating Christmas itself.

And it has been another month and a half, give or take, since he started helping out the rest of DeMort.

So about four and a half months since the Black Dome Incident and the end of the War. Susan led the DMLE and had gotten the remaining Death Eaters tried and prosecuted.  Eloise Midgen had led others into planning the new school. They had a list of classes they wanted taught and were hunting for teachers, with a few planning to get teaching degrees from the non-magical world (which had people considering making that an requirement to be a teacher eventually), the government was being restructured and laws were being reviewed, modified or removed. Purebloods couldn’t refuse to take veritaserum if it was called for in a trial based on their blood purity, (if they were confirmed as having valid health reason, then they could, so could everyone else), there were now libel laws so the newspapers couldn’t be just a mouthpiece for whoever had the most influence, Harry was amazed at what everyone had accomplished in such a short time.

But even with all the progress, there was still a lot of work to be down. With Lavender having pointed out area where there were potential problems.

He couldn’t help but cringe a little when he read about planned service/funeral for the people who had died. The majority had been killed at Hogwarts and he still had no idea why he alone survived. He just had more nightmares to go along with the ones he already had before then. But the service would be important. Lavender was right when she said it would be a closure point for people. Apparently Padma, Lisa Turpin, Terry Boot, Ernie Macmillan and a young Slytherin named Natalia Wilkes were arranging for it to be covered by the press, looking to get some reporters from overseas to be there. Harry figured having an article about the service published overseas was another plan to bring people back to Britain.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to speak during the service. He hoped. Maybe he should look into things to say, just in case?

Harry rubbed at his face. It had felt weird having makeup on. He hadn’t realized there was so much to it. He knew about blush, eye shadow and lipstick and he had heard the girls talking about foundation but it hadn’t occurred to him that there was more to it.

The makeup session was interesting, although Lavender asked him to visit for more sessions. Today she had covered what was what, and taught him how to apply it which had led to them finding a couple of facial scars were a bit big to cover just makeup. But if he covered them with band-aids, it would look like a fashion statement. Then Lavender had pulled out her makeup removal supplies. Apparently she made her own makeup supplies, something that hadn’t occurred to Harry. He knew she liked makeup and he knew she had been managing to pass potions but he never considered that maybe she had been using her potion skills for her makeup.

 She was planning on teaching him how to make his own makeup, suited for his skin tone since his skin tone was paler than hers. Something she thought was odd since while they were both fair skinned (unlike Dean, lucky prat never seemed to get sunburns), Harry used to be a bit more tanned than her since he spent more time outside.

Lavender theorized that it was because of what made his hair purple. Before asking exactly how far the purple hair thing went since the fine hairs on his arms and even his eyebrows and eyelashes were purple. Harry refused to answer. To which Lavender had just _smirked_ , making it clear what she believed the answer to be.

Harry wondered why she wanted to know. Then decided he didn’t want to know.

At any rate, the future lessons should be interesting. Harry had never liked potions due to Snape and his verbally abusive teaching methods (although just writing instructions on the board probably didn’t count as teaching), but maybe it would be better without the greasy bat hovering around looking for the slightest mistake.

Actually, it probably _would_ be better. Snape was a lousy teacher.

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts when he realized an obelisk in the town square had changed its appearance and laid eyes on something that reminded him of why he was in Godric’s Hollow. A statue of a couple with a baby. Harry had no trouble recognizing the woman with a baby seated on her lap or the man with his arm around her. He had seen their faces in every photo in the album Hagrid gave him in first year.

Which meant that the baby was him.

Harry examined the portrayal of his parents. Their faces were focused entirely on the carved baby on their lap, expressions affectionate and happy. _Did they ever look at me like that?_ Harry wondered. Sirius had at times. Harry had never doubted Sirius’ affection for him. The man had broken out of Azkaban, solely because he believed Harry to be in danger, ate rats for him (Harry ignored the implications this little detail had in regards to Pettigrew’s animagus form), returned from someplace presumably warm and sunning to risk being caught for Harry because of a complaint about his scar… There had been moments where Sirius had looked at Harry and looked _broken_ , but Harry never doubted that he cared.

Harry pulled his gaze away from the faces of the stone imitations of his parents and peered at his baby self.

“They didn’t include the scar,” he mumbled, surprised. Yeah, he didn’t have the scar when his parents were alive but given how much it had been obsessed over, he had still expected it to be on the statue. It was almost surreal to have the scar absent. 

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts and walked away. He wasn’t here to see statues. He was here to see the place where he had lived with his parents. Even so, he wondered who had arranged for the statue to be built? Sirius before his arrest? Dumbledore, even though he knowingly condemned that same baby he had represented in the statue to a miserable home? The Ministry, to make itself look good? He wouldn’t ever know, would he?

He spent a few more minutes wandering until he found a ruined house. Most of the cottage was still standing, covered in vines but on the right side there was a hole in the building, as though there was been an explosion in a upstairs room over there that had blown the place apart. Harry wondered if that was where the curse had backfired and if so, how did baby him survive the explosion? Yeah, it was unlikely Riddle was standing right next to him when the man could just aim a curse without crossing the room, but his baby self still would have been close to the epicentre of the curse.

As Harry walked up the path, he spotted a sign. It looked as though it was covered in graffiti. “Well, that’s nice,” he muttered. He walked up to the sign, a sneer on his lips. If some death eaters had scribbled their blood purity crap, he was going to…well, most of them were dead so he couldn’t do much to them and anyone who managed to get out of trouble at the trials would probably be smart enough to avoid more trouble, so Harry wouldn’t really be able to do anything, would he? The boy pouted.

However, as he drew closer, the pout faded. It wasn’t Pureblood propaganda at all.

_Good luck, Harry!_

_Miss you, James and Lily._

_Keep laughing, Prongs. Keep smiling, Lily_ (he was pretty sure Remus had written that one).

_Rest in peace, James and Lily Potter._

_Good luck on your next adventure_ (Dumbledore. That was so Dumbledore).

_Thank you, Harry Potter._

_I love you Harry!_

_Don’t give up Harry. Don’t let him win._

_Thank you for getting rid of You Know Who._

The sign was covered in messages written in ever-lasting ink. Messages address to him, expressing gratitude and  praise alongside messages addressing him parents, written by people saying goodbye. In all sort of colours, some written with prim tidiness, others in messy scrawls. Some words were written in large letters, proclaiming their existence for all to see while others were written much smaller, the smallest of all tucked in a corner, although the writer wanted it to be hidden from everyone, consisting of just three words. _Always, Lily. Always._

It hadn’t occurred to him that something like this had existed.  In his first year, he had recalled Hagrid telling him they died on Halloween and asked if he could skip the feast, feeling weird about celebrating on the day they died now that he knew the truth. He had been told the Halloween feast was mandatory, no exceptions unless you were in the hospital wing. The feast had been wonderful and he had enjoyed himself (until the interruption with Quirrel and the troll), plus if he hadn’t gone, he may not have become friends with Hermione. But it seemed somewhat tacky to order an orphan to party on the day his parents died, especially since it was the first year he knew the truth.

In light of that dismissal of their death, Harry had expected it to be fairly consistent in Magical Britain, with the memorial statue being more of a publicity stunt than anything.  Especially since he had heard about the celebrations that had occurred when they died. After all, the First War had lasted just over a decade. So it made sense his parents would be forgotten, the only tribute to their memory more about image than the actual people being honoured.

Apparently he was wrong.

Harry guiltily reminded himself that while his first year was the first time he had known the truth on the anniversary of their deaths, everyone else had had a decade to get over it. And while Dumbledore had known about his upbringing and Hagrid had found out the Durleys hadn’t told him anything, odds are no one else had any idea of his ignorance now that he thought about it. It was probably harsh of him to think their deaths had simply been dismissed.

He smiled at the _We’ll miss you, James and Lily You’re going to be great, Harry_ , in a familiar, messy scrawl. Hagrid had been one of the few who had openly talked about both parents. Most people talked about his father.  Hagrid was the first, and for a long time, the only person to give him details about his mother other than she was a good student and he had her eyes. Although that last part was no longer true.

Harry pulled his attention from the sign and walked up to the front door. He hesitated for a moment. Did he really want to see where his parents died? Where a psychopathic madman tried to murder him? He had heard his mother begging for his life and his father shouting at her to run while he tried to buy them time. Did he really want to put an image to those voices?

After what seemed like hours, Harry opened the door and entered the Potter’s Cottage.  The interior was modestly decorated. Harry was quite surprised that everything was in such good shape. There was a bare mantle and there were some empty hooks on the wall, proving that looters had helped themselves. But overall, there was more in the building than he expected. He had expected the place to be stripped bare. Harry vaguely wondered if someone placed some sort of ward to prevent theft at some point.

It would later occur to Harry that it was somewhat depressing to realize that he had so little faith in Magicals that he thought they would only not steal if there was something actively stopping them.

He looked around the room before focusing on the stairs, taking care not to look at the probable spot where his father’s corpse had probably laid after being killed and made his way to the second floor. He would start his search for his parent’s journals in their bedroom.

Harry made his way towards the end of the house with the hole in the ceiling, reasoning that his parents would probably prefer to have the baby’s room close by in case he woke up in the night and needed something. Quickly locating their bedroom, he started opening wardrobes and drawers and searched the dressers. Oddly, while he found a hairbrush that clearly belonged to his father going by the black strands caught in the bristles, his mother’s hairbrush seemed to be missing.

Back in the hallway, he paused and looked towards the nursery. He peered into the room. Unlike the rest of the house he had seen, this room wasn’t well-preserved or tidy. There were scorch marks on the floor and walls, a fragile looking, charred cot and a mess of debris and leaves that had fallen through the hole in the ceiling (or at least that’s what Harry figured).

Harry stared, picturing the woman in his photo album standing between the cot and door, making herself a living barrier against a enemy should could beat, praying her son would survive. A part of him knew this was where Riddle had first “died”, which was a great victory. But he couldn’t see the site of a victory, all he could see was a place where a woman died trying to shield her baby from harm. The place where his mother died, begging for his life.

Before he left the town of Godric’s Hollow, he had one last visit to make, Harry decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, visiting his parent's house is way overdue.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry pays a visit to his parent's grave.

The cemetery of Godrics Hollow was quiet.

Harry silently walked down the rows of graves, studying the headstones as he passed.  He didn’t know where in the cemetery his parent’s grave was so he had to wander up and down the rows until he found them.

When he found the gravestone, he stopped and crouched down, reading the words engraved in stone.

“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death,” he read. He frowned. That didn’t sound like something his parents would have chosen based on what everyone said about them.

 _“Death is the next great adventure,”_ Dumbledore murmured in his memory. Harry scowled. If Dumbledore had chosen this inscription for their grave…He shook his head. He thought it would be more fitting to have something about love or loyalty. A claim that death will be destroyed just seemed wrong. And kinda arrogant too. His parent's hadn't _defied_ death. His father, from what it sounded like in his memories had known he would die and merely tried to buy time. And his mother had certainly accepted her death, even offering her life to protect him. If it had been about accepting death or something, it would be more appropriate.

He crouched in front of the headstone, wondering who had made the funeral arrangements. He didn’t know much about his father’s family. The little he had looked up so far said that his paternal grandfather, Charlus had married a Dorea Black and that Charlus’ parents had been a Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. But that was the most he had had time to find and it would probably be a while before he found more information. And they were dead. His father was an only child so that meant Petunia had been the closest relation to his parents. But given her hatred of magic, the most he could picture her doing was signing off any papers and leaving it at that.

Were there any differences between a magical and non-magical funeral? Maybe he should ask.

Harry wished he had had the foresight to bring some flowers. He dug into his bag, looking for anything that would be appropriate to leave at the grave. There was only what he had found in the Potter Cottage. Some jewelry, some recipe books, some photo albums, he had even found what looked like his father’s journal, although his mother’s was absent. There had also been a quill and some books scattered on a desk. Harry figured that someone had taken his mother’s journal and research notes to figure out how she had protected him. But there wasn’t anything he thought would be a good grave leaving. He pulled out an old, plush stag and stared at it. Was leaving your old baby toys on your parent’s grave acceptable? He planned to come back again before he left but it seemed wrong to not leave anything on his first visit.

He frowned then blinked and smacked himself in the head. He got up and walked up and down the graves until he found one with flowers. He could just use the Doubling Charm on a bouquet already here and put the copy of his parent’s grave. Harry felt a bit stupid for not considering this earlier.  Feeling better, he returned to the Potter grave marker crouched down, placing the copied flowers at the base of the stone.

“Um…Hi,” Harry said, feeling awkward. This felt so weird. “I probably should have brought my own flowers instead of copying someone else’s. I promise I’ll do that before I leave.” Harry scratched his head. “Yeah, I’m planning on leaving Britain. Although my first trip overseas will be to hunt down the people who left and ask them to come back. Boost the economy and all that. Most of what I’m doing now is just getting support or providing an ear to listen to. So bringing people back would be a way to be useful. Slughorn would probably be the easiest,” Harry considered. “I’m hoping to get a lot of people back before the Memorial service they’re planning. That’s planned for some point in summer or early spring at the moment. So I should get a good number back before then. Hopefully.”

“I should probably talk to Susan first,” he continued. “Get my criminal record purged since it either Dobby’s doing or self defense against dementors. So yeah, I can probably get her to clear that from my record.”

“Actually, do I need a passport?” he wondered. “Do wizards have passports? How does international travel work in the Magical World? I really should know this, shouldn’t I, since the evacuations where my idea but it was someone else who did all the work in arranging travel. Not sure who. Wow, I feel like an ass now,” he muttered to himself.

“I know I look a bit different. All purple. Not sure what that is about. We’ve been keeping it from the public for now but it’ll probably come out sooner or later. It is nice to walk around without being recognized.”

“Anyway, I think I found Dad’s journal. Kinda surprised it still there since the drawer it was in was unlocked, nothing to stop someone from just taking it. Couldn’t find mum’s, I think someone took it to find out how I survived that night,” Harry said. “Not sure who. Maybe Dumbledore, he knew enough to set up a blood ward but maybe he knew what you were researching beforehand? He probably had a lot of books on all sorts of magic so maybe you asked him for advice, Mum?”

“Although that kinda backfired, with him using it as an excuse to dump me on Aunt Petunia, “for my own safety”,” he snorted. “Contradicted himself when he explained. Apparently he wanted to me to have a normal childhood but apparently also knew that he would be “condemning me to 10 dark years” and had Mrs. Figg watching me. How is being in an abusive home supposed to give me a normal childhood?” Harry scoffed. “He was so obsessed with his prophecy, his vision of the Greater Good and Voldemort. He didn’t even do much good. He supposedly hired Snape to protect him and give him a chance to dissuade Slytherins from becoming Death Eaters and the greasy git just reinforced the notion they were better than everyone else every chance he got. He got people killed with his secrets and let the Death Eaters go unharmed because apparently killing someone to protect their victims is morally equal to killing someone for the sake of it.” Harry shook his head. “He really was a fool in how he handled things.”

“I guess he had his reasons. Not that we know what they are since he kept everything to himself and even when he had to share what he knew, he told as little as possible.”

“I didn’t even know your names until Hagrid told me,” Harry said angrily.  “I didn’t know about Sirius and Remus until third year. I only found out Neville was my godbrother when we were both in DeMort – prat kept calling me his “baby godbrother” even though he’s less than twelve hours older! Though he’s laid off that a bit lately. I only learnt my grandparent’s names a few months ago and the only reason I know  Grandpa Henry and Grandma Rose’s names is because it was listed at Gringott’s, same as Grandpa Charlus and Grandma Dorea.”

“Anyway, you’ve probably figured out that we won, no-nose is dead and so are a lot of other people,” Harry said in a softer tone. “A lot of them are purebloods so we have a chance to rip out the blood purity rot that’s so ingrained in the Ministry. That’s about the only good thing about all the deaths. It’ll probably be a long while until everything is stable, so when I leave, I’m taking a mirror with me once the twins have them made so I can be called back if needed.”

“Most of the deaths happened at Hogwarts and they’ve shut it down,” he rambled on. “It’ll probably be memorial and a piece of history now. Not sure what’s happening with the ghosts. Or Peeves. He’s been at Hogwarts since it started apparently but I doubt he’ll be interest in staying in an empty castle. But I don’t think he’ll be welcome at the new school either.” Harry huffed out a laugh. “Of course, odds are he’ll show up anyway if he wants. I know there are spells to keep a ghost a way from a place or a person but Peeves isn’t a ghost so I don’t know if they’ll work him.”

Harry blinked, realizing something. “I have no idea what happened to Buckbeak! I haven’t seen him at Grimmauld.” Harry winced. Hagrid had _loved_ Buckbeak. Out of the entire Hippogriff herd, he had been the gamekeepers’ favourite. “I think I’ll ask the Weasleys. They lived there for a bit after fourth year, so maybe they’ll know.”

Harry glanced up. “It’s starting to get dark, so I better go. Good thing this coat has a warming charm built in or I’d be freezing.” He stood up and dusted off his pants. “…It was… it was nice talking to you, sorta,” he said, wondering if that was a good way to end things. Feeling a bit awkward, he hovered for a bit before leaving.

\---------

The next morning, a man entered the cemetery. As he walked past the graves, he suddenly stopped and scowled. A glare on his face, he stalked up to a headstone and snatched up the flowers between continuing on his way. Until he stopped again. He stared at the grave he was here to visit, at the flowers he was holding, then back at the grave, where an identical bunch of flowers rested.

“Oops,” he mumbled, backtracking and returning the flowers to the grave he took them from.

He took some measure of satisfaction that he clearly had chosen tastefully if someone else had brought an identical bouquet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Harry finally visits his parent's grave! Yay! Only he forgot flowers and wound up causing a bit of confusion for a man the next morning. Whoops.
> 
> And yes, I did alter the Potter Family tree slightly. Instead of being his grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia are his great-grandparents.
> 
> And yes, I know there is a significant meaning to the quote of the gravestone, and that it means you defeat death by accepting it (or so I've read). But Harry was kept reasonably sheltered in the muggle since the Dursleys did their best to isolate him. He would have no idea of the deeper meaning unless someone in the Magical World talked to him about it but I don't see that happening. So ironically, his opinion about how a quote about accepting death was shared by whoever chose that quote to go on the headstone. 
> 
> Also, does anyone know what happened to Buckbeak at the end of the series?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry considers what he needs to get done and has an odd experiance

Harry read Susan’s note. Apparently she wouldn’t have time to see him for a few days. Harry wonder if that was a good sign. If the DMLE was still having to deal with a huge workload, it would be longer than a few days, right? He shook his head. He could find out when he sees her. In the mean time, Neville had been asking for a chat as had Eloise, he had a make-up lesson with Lavender, Seamus said he wanted to talk to him about a possible business venture, he had to find out what happened to Buckbeak (and he should see if he could track down Fluffy, he was pretty sure it wasn’t a good idea to leave a cerebus running around without someone keeping it in check), he needed to write to the asylum in Magical France to get an update on Hermione, he needed to get the information regarding those who had left so he could track them down and talk to them about returning and he still needed to finish reviewing the papers regarding his family and inheritance.

In addition, Luna was the others organizing the Memorial Service wanted to talk to him about it. And there was the whole issue of his altered looks. Sooner or later, it was going to get out so he needed a way to deal with the public reaction when it happened.

“Ugh,” Harry groaned. He dropped the sheet of parchment onto the desk and grabbed his mokeskin bag. He paused and looked at it with sad fondness. Hedwig had been the first gift he had ever gotten and this bag was the last gift Hagrid had ever given him. He shook his head, double checked the contents and slipped the bag around his neck.  He really needed to find out what happened to Buckbeak and Fluffy.

He glanced in the mirror. He was getting used to seeing himself looking so different. Finally. He still got caught off guard by his purple appearance sometimes but those moments were getting rarer and rarer.

A tap at the window drew his attention. Two owls were there, each holder a newspaper. Harry crossed the room and opened the window. The owls fluttered in dropped their packages on the bed before perching on the foot rail. Harry smiled and gently petted them.  At least these owls didn’t peck for payment like the Daily Prophet’s did. Harry didn’t bother with that paper since it had been shown to be all too willing to print lies. So he got the Quibbler, which was always entertaining and the Wizarding World Today (WWT), which had proven to be less gossipy than the Daily Profit. He gave the owls one last pet before paying them, shutting the window after they flew off.

Taking the newspapers, Harry stepped out of the room and locked it behind him before heading downstairs.

“Good morning,” he greeted. He had relocated himself to the Leaky Cauldron a few days after he and Bill had arranged the cursebreaker contract. Bill, no longer distracted with other obligations un like before, had gone through the house and found that there were dangerously cursed objects in close to every room. In light of this revelation, Harry had promptly moved out and rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron. He had no intention of going back until the cursebreakers had done their work. Maybe he was being paranoid but living in a house where the coat stands could choke you to death made him uneasy.

Harry hadn’t told Tom who he was instead giving the name Charlie Evens so no one would realize he was there. Tom, unfortunately, was a bit of a gossip. If he knew who Harry was, odds were everyone would soon know he was staying here. That didn’t mean that no one is the Leaky Cauldron knew. Tom had taken on an assistant who would take over the Leaky Cauldron when he retired and she was well aware what his real name was.

“Good morning, Charlie,” Hannah greeted. “Did you sleep well?” The future Landlady smiled at him.

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said. “You?”

“I slept fine. Would you like some breakfast? We have a special on strawberry pancakes.” The future Landlady smiled at him.

“I’ll have some pancakes, please,” he said, perking up.

“Alright, I’ll bring over in a few minutes,” Hannah agreed.

Harry settled at a table to read his papers. Stuff about the most recent trials, weather reports, Quidditch, adverts, fashion and the international/foreign affairs. Huh, someone used a shield charm while a Research Facility was on fire. Unfortunately, it was a _non-magical_ research facility so there were people looking for the caster and investigating whether or not it breached the Statue of Secrecy. It was possible that people just assumed the shield charm was some chemicals reacting to the heat. But what sort of shield charm looked like green fire? The Red Riding Hood Sisters in Eastern France (Harry wondered if the group had anything to with the Red Riding Hood Story or if they named themselves after it) had a new leader. The last one had died saving a school from a manticore, leaving behind a son and husband. Magical China had new export regulations regarding some potion ingredients that only they have, such as qilin scales. There was an article about an epidemic in Magical Prussia, resulting in travel restrictions and extremely strict quarantines.

Harry put down his paper as Hannah brought over his breakfast. “Thank you,” he said, handing over some sickles and knuts.  “It’s no problem,” she told him, giving him a smile before walking away.  Harry tucked into his pancakes, mentally reviewing what he would do today. He could talk to Seamus tomorrow. He would see Eloise today, it was probably about the new school and while he donated the land, that didn’t mean he had any idea on how to run a school so best to get that out of the way so she could start consulting people who actually had some idea of what to do. He would catch up with Neville, see what he wanted, then he would  have his lesson with Lavender and after that, send a letter asking about Hermione before sending owls to the people running the evacuations . Flora Carrow would be a good start. While her sister Hestia had taken to the front lines (an oddity among the DeMorts with a Death Eater as a parent. Most preferred to avoid situations where they may wind up facing their parents), Flora had not and was one of the people running the escape lines. Micheal Thornwistle  and Su Li as well. Bill and Charlie had been running the lines at first so it would probably be a good idea to owl them as well.   Harry made a note to get some folders to organise the information into. Keep the people who went to one country in one folder and so on. It would make it easier when he went to try and talk them into coming back. He also needed to make sure he had a list of names of everyone who ran the evacuation lines so he could get all of the information.  He also needed to start preparing to go overseas to track them down. Did wizards have their own international travel or did they use some sort of modified non-magical method like how Hogwarts had a train? He needed to ask around about that.  On his way to see Eloise, Harry would pop into the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and ask if they could find out what happened to Buckbeak and Fluffy. And if they had any of the Marauders Mirrors for sale. It would be easier to just call someone than run around meeting with everyone if they had. 

 ---------------------------------  

“ _Why_ are so many people asking my input for things I know nothing about?” Harry demanded as Lavender set up two small cauldrons and place various things on a nearby table.  

“Such as?” Lavender asked.  

“Eloise wanted to know if I had any set requirements regarding filling the positions,” Harry waved a hand. “How would I know what would be needed? Why put my opinion higher than anyone else’s?”  

Lavender bit her tongue to avoid pointing out the obvious answer. “…Did you give her any requirements?” she asked curiously. 

 “…I suggested that they talk to students about the elective classes before they choose them,” Harry admitted. “I only chose mine because Ron was going for them I figured if I hated it, I’d have a friend there.”  

“…Hermione was in every elective for third year,” Lavender pointed out. 

 “A friend who wasn’t obsessive when it came to studying and wouldn’t nag the hell out of me about class,” Harry clarified. “I also asked that they set something up so we don’t have another Snape abusing students. And some sort of system to protect students from being victimised by rumors and stuff.”  

Lavender inwardly winced at the reminder that his second and fourth years had reinforced the distance between him and everyone else other than Ron and Hermione. All because no one had bothered to get his side of things and jumped to conclusions. In hindsight, it was a miracle he hadn’t been attacked once by other students.  She shook her head. “Anyway, I’ve got things ready so we’re going to try a skin cleanser, alright? It’s an easy one that’s good for preventing and getting rid of boils and pimples.”  

“Alright. What do we do first?”  The scarred blonde directed Harry through the steps, the pair idly chatting about random subjects until Harry yelped.  

“Ow!”  

“Harry?” Lavender promptly turned her attention away from the mixture to focus on him.  

“I sliced my finger,” he explained, glancing down. Both he and Lavender blinked at the line of purple fire vanishing, leaving uninjured skin behind.  

“Harry? Do you bleed fire?” Lavender blurted the first thing that came to mind.  “Last I know, I bleed blood,” Harry answered, staring at his finger. 

 “Didn’t a phoenix, you know, a _firebird_ , heal you twice?” Lavender asked. 

 “…I’ve bleed regular blood since. I don’t think this is Fawkes’ fault,” Harry said dryly.  

“Have you had any other incidents involving purple fire? Like during the…like when you faced Riddle at the end of first year?” Lavender questioned, stopping herself from bringing up the Black Dome incident.  

“I just remember Quirrel burning under my hands before I blacked out. I don’t remember there being any purple fire involved then or during the Black Dome incident,” Harry answered.  

“…Just one of those things we don’t have an answer for?” Lavender asked. “Like how your mum sacrificing herself for you saved you even though it didn’t work for any other mother who tried to protect her kid?”  
  
“Actually, since Riddle told her to step aside and she told him to kill her instead, I think he accidently locked himself in a magical contract and violated it when he tried to kill me,” Harry said. “But other than that, yeah, something we don’t have an answer for.”  
  
Lavender nodded. She mentally made a note to ask around about purple fire. Maybe she would ask Parvati to talk to Padma. The Ravenclaw twin had been getting involved with the Department of Mysteries now that things were getting settled. Lavender thought that maybe the DOM had taken Lily’s Potter’s journals to find out how Harry had been protected that night. Despite Harry’s opinion otherwise, she still thought that maybe the purple fire had to do with the Protection Spell his mother had cast on him. Maybe the purple fire was part of the protection that Harry hadn’t noticed before. He could be very oblivious about some things. And now that the things were settling down, odds are others will be looking into the means of how Harry survived. And Lavender was sure that there were already people trying to figure things out. They had been a few people and groups at Hogwarts, casting spells, trying to figure out what killed everyone. How likely was it that someone was less interested in how they all died and more interested in how Harry survived?  And if the purple fire really was Lily Potter’s protection charm, would they be able to find the notes and replicate it? And if so, what else could it do?   


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets up with Susan and someone approaches him with a request.

“Potter,” came the curt greeting when Harry arrived at the Ministry.

“Hey there,” Harry greeted the witch, Ophelia Lestrange, niece to the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband Rodolphus through her father Rabastan. The older witch had dark hair pulled into a bun, dark eyes, a thin face with sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin and wore a grey business suit. Ophelia had been open about her pragmatic reasons for joining DeMort.

 _“The best case scenario is the Dark Lord being killed,”_ the witch had said flatly. _“If he wins, we will be condemned to slavery in all but name if we live. If we stay neutral, we will be viewed as supporters if he loses. If we join you, then if he loses, we will be more accepted and if he wins we can simply flee overseas. Siding with him is idiocy. I have plans to become greater than a boot-licking thrall and hexing-target for an abomination.”_

Not the most noble or altruistic motives, but they were valid and Harry would be surprised if there wasn’t anyone else in DeMort for similar reasons. Wanting people to fight for noble reasons was all well and good, but not very practical.

Harry didn’t know everyone’s reasons for joining DeMort. Most of them, he could guess. It was often they wanted to do the right thing, they wanted revenge, they wanted to help their friends, they didn’t want to leave and be called cowards, they were more afraid of running to a country they didn’t know, something along those lines.

Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Tracy Davis, the Carrow twins and a number of other Slytherins made their reasons clear the moment they showed up to join. They personally didn’t particularly like about the possibility of being subjugated to a psychopathic monster who was all too free with the torture curses. They didn’t want Riddle to win because he would be a horrific tyrant and they didn’t want to be viewed as his supporters if he lost. Blaise outright told Harry that if the situation became bad enough, he would leave for the Zabini estates in Italy and abandon Britain altogether, that he was only here to protect the Zabini British investments.

Harry was quite confident that it wasn’t only the Slytherin DeMort members who joined for those reasons. Although those who had Death Eaters for parents tended to stay away from the front lines and helped in other areas. The few who didn’t had obvious issues with their Death Eater parent or simply didn’t know them well enough for an emotional attachment.

Ophelia was pragmatic and calculating. She had hated being a Slytherin and resented the sorting hat for placing her there when she asked to be sorted elsewhere. She had wanted to avoid the stigma of the house of snakes and wanted as few comparisons to her aunt as possible, especially since the two were only related by marriage. She had opted to help in the Ministry restoration, working in the filing division.

“How have you been, Ophelia?” Harry asked. _No one_ called Ophelia by her last name. It led to painful happenings. Ophelia pursed her lips.

“It could be better,” she answered. “I would like to discuss that with you at some point. But let’s take care of the business you came here for first.” She raised a brow, clearly expecting him to tell her what he wanted.

“I wanted to see Susan about getting my record cleared and find out if I needed a passport to go out of the country,” he replied. Ophelia nodded.

“Bones has reviewed your file,” she told him. “Follow me.” She turned and marched down a corridor briskly. Harry quickly went after her.

“How much of your family papers have you reviewed?” Ophelia questioned.

“Not much, I keep getting sidetracked,” Harry admitted. “A little about what I inherited from the Potter family and from Sirius, a bit about my grandparents and great-grandparents but that’s about it.”

“Ah. Then you will find what Bones found to be very interesting,” Ophelia noted.

“What did she find?” Harry asked.

“She will tell you, her office is just up ahead,” Ophelia said, nodding at a door down the corridor. “I will wait outside for you to finish your meeting with her. I will send inquiries regarding the requirements for international travel while you are with her.”

Harry blinked in surprise. “Thank you, Ophelia,” he said. She nodded briskly as they drew to a halt.

“Bones does not have any appointments nor is she visiting other departments to my knowledge,” the witch said before she rapped her knuckles briskly on the door. There was a short pause before the door swung open to reveal Susan.

“Hi, Harry,” the former Hufflepuff smiled at him. “I see you made it.” She turned to look at Ophelia curiously. “Is there something you wanted, Ophelia?”

 “I escorted him here,” Ophelia said simply. She nodded at the other witch before turning and taking position next to wall, where she pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.

“Come on in, Harry,” Susan stepped aside for Harry to enter and closed the door behind him. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to get my criminal record cleared,” he explained. “As far as I know, the only things on it are from when Dobby levitated a pudding at my aunt’s and when I used my patronus to drive off the dementors Umbridge sent after me.”

Susan’s eyes darkened at the mention of the former Undersecretary. “Actually, that won’t be necessary,” She told him. “You don’t have anything other than Hogwarts and stuff from before your parents died on your record at all.”

“Really?” Harry looked surprised. “It’s been cleared already?”

“It didn’t need to be,” Susan shook her head. “At least, not your actual record.”

“…I think you just lost me,” Harry said after a beat. Susan sat down behind the desk and gestured for Harry to take a seat himself.

“You know how the Boy-Who-Lived was a big deal and all?” Susan half-asked, half-stated. Harry nodded. It was kinda hard to miss. “Well, that led to people making certain decisions such as calling you simply by an abbreviated version of your actual name.”

“At my trial before fifth year, they called me Harry James Potter,” Harry frowned.

“Yeah, your actual name is a bit longer,” Susan shrugged.

“Okay, so if Harry James Potter isn’t my name, what is my name?” Harry asked. It seemed like he kept finding out things about himself that he didn’t know. First he finds out he’s a wizard, then he finds out he’s a parselmouth, then he has a godfather, then he had some freaky mental connection to a murdering psycho obsessed with him and now he finds out he doesn’t even know his own name? What next?

“Oh, Harry James Potter is in there, someone just removed part of it, probably because of the accusations towards Sirius Black,” Susan told him. “Your full name is Harry James Corvus Potter-Black.”

“…I have five names?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, apparently Sirius blood-adopted you as a baby, making you his heir and since Arcturus Black never disowned Sirius or stripped him of his position of Heir despite his mother blasting him off the family tapestry, that made you Heir of the family, regardless of any other claims. You’re as much a Black as you are a Potter and Evans.” Susan smirked. “I bet your godfather really to pissed off his mum with that. I’ve heard stories about her and she was a hag.”

 “Okay, that explains the Black part, what about Corvus?”

“Well, my guess is that since you’re part of the Black Family, you needed a Black name. Or maybe it was to honor your grandmother. She was born a Black. Traditionally most Blacks are names for celestial objects like stars and constellations. Corvus is the crow or raven constellation.”

“I don’t remember seeing it in Astronomy class,” Harry frowned.

“It’s in the Southern Hemisphere. Wrong side of the planet for us to see,” Susan explained. “At any rate, with Sirius supposedly being a traitor, I guess people didn’t want your name tied to his in any way. So they removed the Corvus and Black from it, leaving you with Harry James Potter.”

“Of course, that didn’t change what your name was but people overlooked that and started a new file,” Susan continued. “So all your accidental magic and stuff that was done after you lost your parents went into the Harry James Potter file instead of your real file. The only exception is your Hogwarts records since that was all organised before they died.” Susan shrugged. “So, because of that bureaucratic muck-up, your record is clean.”

“Really?” Harry blinked.

“Really,” she confirmed.

“So…basically, I’m off the hook for anything the Ministry tried to pin on me because someone decided to change my name without actually doing so legally?”

“Pretty much,” Susan said cheerfully. “All I had to do was transfer the relevant reports to the right folder then right something up for the Dobby and Dementor incidents. It took a lot more work to clear everyone else’s records. You won’t believe the mess the Death Eaters made of them, particularly the New Bloods!”

Harry winced at the thought of mess of paperwork Susan had to go through and correct. He did not envy her.

“That must have been a nightmare,” he remarked.

“It was!” Susan groaned. “And we’ve been cleaning up Diagon Alley and while that was pretty easy, we’re going to be aiming to clean up Knockturn Alley as well, and you know how much corruption and crap there is there!”

Harry stared at her. “…Sucks to be you,” he finally said. “How are you planning to do that?”

Susan sighed. “Well, it’s a long term plan. But one of the first steps we have planned is making fairer to Werewolves. They’ll hopefully have the option of taking the Wolfsbane potion or running around in a special sanctuary. The problem is getting the potion available and building the Sanctuary. That bastard Snape pretty guaranteed that only a few handfuls of potion masters have been trained the last 10 years. He pretty much bullied everyone who wasn’t a Slytherin out of potions and I’ve been told that he had special lessons in the dungeons for Slytherins so his poor teaching in the class wouldn’t affect them.”

“Greasy git,” Harry scowled. Harry had wondered how Slytherins had managed to get a high enough grade to meet Snape’s NEWT requirements when the man simply put the instructions on the board and lurked around the classroom criticising people before assigning homework. The fact that the Slytherins were getting actual lessons outside of class certainly explained things.

“So his NEWT classes have almost all been entirely Slytherin. And most of them never went for a potions mastery even if they got a potions NEWT. So we’re really lacking when it comes to potions,” Susan gave a wan smile. “At least now I know why people say buying already-made potions used to be cheaper. Thanks to Snape, they had to import a lot. Why did Dumbledore keep him on?”

“Protection and spy,” Harry said sourly.

Susan scoffed. “Some spy. It was obvious he was playing both sides, he never seemed to give any information-“

“Or Dumbledore never acted on it because he thought he could “redeem” the Death Eaters,” Harry pointed out, rolling his eyes.

“Point. He screwed over pretty much any service that needs people with a potion NEWT, like aurors or healers,” Susan shook her head. “You know my Aunt used to say that when she was a student, while the Slytherins who were Bloodheads got discriminated, the others were left alone. I’ve been asking around with some of the older crowd and it looks like all Snape accomplished was getting the whole House hated rather than just the jerks in it.”

“I thought No-Nose caused that,” Harry remarked.

“He laid the foundations and gave it a solid start,” Susan agreed. “But whereas it was possible for the House to recover from that reputation, Snape made sure to snap the last twig on the broom.”

Harry thought that it would have taken quite a bit for Slytherin to recover from the Riddle dragging the House through the mud but she had a point about Snape making it worse. It only took the non-magically-raised less than a month to conclude Slytherin was full of jerks and the most prominent Slytherin that had interactions with would have been Snape since everyone took potions for at least 5 years. Although he was sceptical of the fact that Snape did more damage to the House of Snakes’ reputation than Riddle.

Susan shook her head. “At any rate, a lot of the Knockturn Alley folk are werewolves and the like, who can’t get jobs elsewhere because they’re “dark” or not human and Knockturn is the pretty much the only place they can find someone willing to give them work.” She didn’t bother mentioning the lack of legality of the work or the fact it wasn’t necessarily steady. “So, if we can make it better for them, not only do we reduce the number of folk who commit crimes because they have no other choice, we could very well get more people to help with the clean up.”

“I think it would take a bit more than that,” Harry remarked.

“But it’s a start,” Susan answered. “And we need to get the ball rolling for there to be progress. We can’t sit and wait for someone to do it for us. If we don’t make things better for everyone, if everyone says to wait for someone else to do it, who will?”

“True,” Harry nodded, smiling.

It was moments like this he felt sure that everything would be alright.

\---------------------------------------

“What?”

“I was wondering if you could employ me,” Ophelia repeated calmly.

“Why?” Harry asked.

Ophelia sighed. “My aunt was infamous and people associate her with the Lestrange name more than they do the Black one. Most likely because when she became infamous, she was always referred to by her married name and her maiden name was rarely mentioned. Furthermore, the Blacks didn’t exactly choose to be the ones to have her born to them whereas my family chose to make her a member of the House Lestrange.  So part of the stigma carries over to me.”

Harry frowned. “Are you being bothered by people about it?”

“Unfortunately,” she answered. “It’s mainly nasty comments, remarks and insulting letters. I have received a couple of trapped letters but I managed to avoid getting hurt.” She gave a bitter smile. “My darling aunt sent me some mail after she got out and I became a bit paranoid about her sending me cursed letters for going against her precious master.”

“So how would working for me fix that?” Harry asked.

“It would hopefully convince some that I’m not my aunt and the rest that I’m in a position where their antics are too big a risk to continue with,” Ophelia said. “In addition, there are rumours that you will be going overseas, which will remove me from their reach.”

“So, basically, you want to use me as a buffer against the people bugging you?” Harry clarified.

“I think that is fairly accurate,” Ophelia agreed. Harry blinked. She just admitted that she wanted to use him? No manipulations, no trying to justify what she wants, just flat out agreement that she would be using him?

Harry shrugged. “I can see your point,” he said. “But I don’t know what I would hire you for.”

“I have heard you are frequently meeting up with people and do not have a set agenda. I could perhaps help you organize your schedule and prepare for your trip overseas?”

“So…basically you would be an assistant and babysitter?”

“If you would employ as such, yes,” Ophelia nodded.

Harry wondered how bad the backlash of being a Lestrange was, if Ophelia was willing to take up such a position to reduce the harassment and get some measure of protection, however minor. She and Harry didn’t know each other that well so it wasn’t like she was asking her best friend for help. But why him? Surely there were others she could ask who could provide her with protection. Like Susan. Or Neville. Or what about Justin, the new Minister who was everything Bellatrix had hated? He would have served as a clear demonstration that Ophelia was not her aunt.

He then remembered the number of letters he had, received during various hours of the day. Early morning at the Cauldron was about the only time he _didn’t_ have to keep an eye out for owls since he had requested and paid for a room where he didn’t have to worry about owl-post other than the newspapers. Harry couldn’t help but wonder why the Leaky Cauldron had such rooms. It wasn’t like the wards on the room hid you all the time, only while you were within. How many people worried about get owl post at all hours, even at night? Harry only asked about it because Bill had complained about owls arriving at night during the Occulmancy Training (at least until the eldest Weasley had warded the place against owl post. Some of the birds had been noisy. That reminded Harry, he needed to learn how to cast those wards. Those nights before he had relocated himself to the Leaky Cauldron had been full of deliveries). He had separated them by putting the ones with handwriting he recognized in one pile, the official looking stuff in another and everything else was heaped together. The first two piles he managed to keep on top of, mostly. The third, not so much. And he still had meetings to get to, the papers regarding his inheritance to go through and preparations for his travels overseas after the evacuees. Oh, and information on how to track them down.

Did he ever get around to finding out what Seamus wanted?

….Maybe having someone help him with organization would be a good thing.

“I guess we could give it a go,” Harry scratched his head. “But I’ve never hired someone as an employee. The closest would be hiring cursebreakers to deal with the house on Grimmauld Place. I don’t know how to set up a regularly salary or anything.”

“I could advise you but I would suggest discussing a reasonable salary with someone like Longbottom,” Ophelia said. “Even if you just owl him asking for a price range. Although you should get some advice regarding employment contracts.”

“Okay?” Harry said. “I could send Neville an owl and ask if we could stop by. Or maybe I could ask the twins. Even if their shop is open, one of them could take a few minutes to talk.”

“…Potter, do yourself a favour and don’t limit yourself to a few minutes when figuring out an employment contract,” Ophelia told him. “You’re less likely to screw yourself over that way.”

“Given that you’re still working here, can you tell me when you’ll be free to talk about the contract?”

“I’m currently working in the DMLE archives, 8 to 5, on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday” Ophelia told him. “Once you have an actual contract, I’ll give my notice and quit.”

“Out of curiosity, how much do you want to be paid?” Harry asked. Ophelia shrugged.

“Enough for the essentials and a bit extra at the minimal,” she answered. Harry tilted his head. That would be a fairly low pay check comparatively, wouldn’t it?

“I guess you have an inheritance to fall back on, huh?” Harry said. Didn’t Fred and George said Peeves to the Lestrange Manor? If they had a Manor, that meant a lot of money, right?

Ophelia gave a snort. “My uncle was head of the family and completely cowed by his wife. Who forced him to give money to her precious master. The Lestrange fortune is no more. The only thing left is the Manor which was claimed by the Ministry as the taxes hadn’t been paid for months before Riddle’s first defeat. And since no one wanted it, it’s been sitting around, rotting.”

So Ophelia had no family money to fall back onto if something happened but still was willing to accept what sounded like a low salary? Even though it would leave her in trouble if a problem came up? Harry wondered exactly how bad the harassment was. Maybe she just hated her fanatical dark relations that much. Or maybe Ophelia was genuinely afraid for her life or something?

He really couldn’t refuse her, could he?

“I’ll be in touch,” he promised, deciding to head to the Leaky Cauldron, write a letter and then go post it.

Ophelia nodded then handed him some sheets of parchment. “Here is the information regarding international travel. However, it is generalized, some countries have their own regulations, they are listed so you can identify them.”

“Thank you, Ophelia,” Harry said.

“It is no problem. After all, this sort of thing will be my job, won’t it?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia isn't intended to be a major player. I'm aiming for her to be more of a background character.
> 
> And no, Susan is no being gracious to Snape at all. None of the people outside Slytherin will think highly of him because of his bullying. They have no insight into his past. And even if Harry looks into his memories, it won't be in the same context as canon so it will not have the same emotional impact. It will also be ALL of his memories, not just the ones Snape wants handed over. So he won't be viewed as good guy at all. He won't be viewed as a complete monster, but he'll still be considered a jerk.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets Ophelia's contract sorted and says his goodbyes.

Ophelia flipped through the file and put it aside to be sent to the appropriate office. She was glad Potter agreed to employ her. Now all she needed to do was make herself useful so she would _stay_ employed. He was the Golden Boy and known to be protective. In short, he was the ultimate defence against those blaming her for her family’s deeds.

Her hands tingled, remembering a nasty hex on one letter. Ophelia flexed her fingers several times before picking up another file. While she would be leaving this job soon, she may as well do her part while she was here.

Ophelia mused on how to make herself useful. She could provide insight into pureblood culture, explain traditions and views that he did not grow up with. Although she would need to pay attention to know what he needed explained to him – she wasn’t familiar with non-magical cultural despite her participation in Muggle Studies so she wouldn’t know what he had learnt in that society. She could make a start on getting the information regarding the evacuees and look into accommodations though.

Ophelia frowned. Now that she thought about it, accommodations would probably cost a bit. Especially since it was unlikely that all of the evacuees stayed in the same location, even if they were in the same country. Maybe she could arrange the purchase of a magical tent and persuade people to let them set up in the backyard or living room?

Then she paused and considered another idea. It would take a bit more work, and it probably wouldn’t be ready by the time Harry left for his recruitment. But it would probably take him a long time to find all the evacuees and it would be practical. Ophelia made a note to approach some of Harry’s closer peers about it, such as the Weasleys. It would be interesting at any rate.

She would need a way to organize all the relevant information. A daily planner to keep all the meetings listed in for sure. And some sort of notebook for the rest.

Didn’t Professor Burbage mention some sort of box called a compuder that would function for that sort of thing? How big was a compuder? Muggle studies never said. Would be something she could carry around?

Ophelia pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket and jotted down some notes for future reference before resuming her work.

She was sure Harry had been under a glamour when he visited. She had heard rumours that his appearance had changed dramatically but he hadn’t looked too different, maybe slightly off but mostly the same. So he was probably keeping his new look under wraps.

Not that she blamed him. Ophelia snorted as she recalled an article in the morning paper that day. Honestly, some people were way too happy to jump to conclusions. No wonder why he wanted to hide himself from people.

\---------------------

“What the hell?” Harry muttered to himself as he read the Daily Prophet. He visits Susan _once_ and some reporter decides that means he’s becoming an auror and maybe taking over from Susan? He scowled as the article blathered on about how he would be ensuring public safety and so on. As though him protecting the public was something that would just happen, regardless. As if he was owed it to them to dedicate his life to hunting criminals.

Like hell. He had spent his earliest memories living as a slave for the Dursleys, his childhood stolen because of their bigotry and Dumbledore’s schemes. He spent his years at Hogwarts as a whipping boy, verbal punching bag and target for the school population, while saving the school with little gratitude shown. Then he spent over a year fighting war that only happened because the adults didn’t clean up after themselves after Riddle’s first defeat and refused to do more than stun murderous rabid beasts in human skin.

He had given enough to the Wizarding World. He would not give them more of his life. He would help the rest of DeMort, but the ungrateful, fickle public, he would leave to fend for themselves. The most they could expect was benefits from him helping his family and friends. He wouldn’t fight those who stood aside allowed children to be dragged into torture camps while their parents were murdered. He wouldn’t fight for those who allowed those of “impure blood” to be raped and murdered in the street. He would protect the Demorts, he would fight for them, die for them, kill for them. Everyone else could learn to fend for themselves. They wouldn’t get one more drop of sweat from him.

He had done enough for them.

Scowling, Harry threw the paper in the rubbish and left to see Neville. He figured they could talk about employment contracts and catch on things. He also heard that Neville had starting to look into export and import. Mainly plants but it was a starting point, right? And imports and exports meant foreign contacts, which could help with finding the evacuees.

It couldn’t hurt to ask.

Harry glanced at the bedside cabinet. He was getting low on dreamless sleep potion. He would have to pop into the apothecary for some more. Or maybe convince Lavender to have a session covering them. He really didn’t want the nightmares.

He sighed. He would have to stop taking them at some point. Just…not now. Not yet. He had things to do and he needed his sleep. Later, he would stop taking the potions and deal with the nightmares. Later, when things were settled.

He shivered at the thought of the nightmares he had before he started taking dreamless sleep potion. He wasn’t looking forward to it. With any luck, the occulmancy will help. Though it didn’t during Snape’s pathetic excuses for lessons.

The first thing he had learnt during those real lessons after the incident was you don’t actually attack their barriers until after several lessons. And the first ones should be gentle probes to examine the development of the barriers. Not the outright mental stabbing Snape had inflicted. It was one of the first things taught during occulmancy training in case the teacher and student were not compatible and the student had to find another teacher. This way, they could see if the new teacher was actually teaching.

Of course, lessons with Snape were doomed to fail even if he was a competent teacher. Mind magic lessons of any sort required trust of some sort between teacher and student, even if it was the mere trust that their teacher would do their job professionally. And Snape had shattered any chance of Harry trusting him by being an abusive bully from their first interaction. And even if Snape had been completely professional during his teaching career, even if Harry hadn’t mistrusted him so completely, it would still be impossible for him to teach Harry occulmancy because he had always judged Harry by his father’s merits rather than his own, resulting in his prejudice making him incapable of trusting Harry as Snape was incapable of trusting James Potter.

Dumbledore had been a fool, assigning Snape to teach Harry something that need some form of trust to be taught.

Harry shook his head.

“Enough of that,” he said aloud. “I need to get that contract sorted.”

\---------------------

 “Ophelia Lestrange?” Neville blinked.

Harry shrugged. “She asked, and given her reasons why, I accepted.”

“But she’s trying to use you for her own protection,” Neville pointed, well aware of how Harry had resented the fact Dumbledore had used him.

“And she told flat out,” Harry answered. “She’s not manipulating me and tricking me, I know she’s using for protection, and I don’t mind because I agreed to it. It wasn’t decided for more.”

“I see,” Neville muttered. “So you want help figuring out an employment contract for her?”

“Yes, please,” Harry requested. Neville considered.

“I think her job would be similar to an under-secretary,” Neville said. “Maybe give her a lower pay rate since it’s the starting salary, it’s not a government or corporate position and you don’t even know if she’ll being doing much.”

The two young men spent a couple of hours discussing the contract.

“Alright, I think we have a pretty good one,” Neville said finally. “And don’t forget, you can renegotiate terms with her later on.”

Harry looked at the paper “…Do you think we should someone else to look at it? Like lawyer?”

“A what?” Neville looked at him.

“…Suddenly, all the breaches of the laws and stuff make a whole lot more sense,” Harry muttered. He recalled looking in Dumbledore’s pensieve in fourth year. The Lestranges and Crouch Jr. didn’t have lawyers did they? He didn’t think Karkaroff or Bagman did either. He certainly didn’t have a representative until Dumbledore crashed the trial in fifth year.

Huh, Magical Britain had a sucky legal system. Here’s hoping Susan fixed it. Well, she did have NewBloods working with her, surely one of them would say something.

“I’ll have Bill and Charlie look it over before I take it to Ophelia,” Harry said. “Anyway, I hear you’re looking at rebuilding the import business?”

“I wouldn’t say restarting,” Neville shook his head. “The Death Eaters didn’t completely stop the imports and exports. I mean, yeah, people heard about what was happening and were a bit careful about doing business with Britain at the time. But the Death Eaters weren’t stupid enough to stop all international business. I mean, some stopped because a prat annoyed them that much, and business was reduced a lot just in case they needed to cut ties completely. But we still have international relations. They just…damaged,” Neville shrugged. “So yeah, it could be way better, but it could also be worse.”

“I guess,” Harry said. “I just heard rumors that they were really bad.  Some people are saying the Death Eaters really screwed us over there.”

“Not just the Death Eaters,” Neville corrected. “Don’t forget, it was usually Old Bloods with money who had authority. And a good number of them tended to look down on people for not being “Pureblooded English wizards”, so Britain’s been pretty low on the international friendship list. So there wasn’t as much harm as there could have been.” Neville fell silent.

After several quiet minutes, Harry spoke. “Is something wrong?”

“No…I…” Neville raised a hand then dropped it. “Some people stopped trading with Britain because of the Death Eaters in power and Riddle running the show. But most didn’t. They kept buying and selling to people they knew were murdering and torturing people just for being different to them. You’d think they wouldn’t do business with monsters.”

“In an ideal world, they wouldn’t,” Harry said quietly. “But in an ideal world, a lot of things wouldn’t happen.”

“Good point,” Neville agreed. He shook his head. “Anyway, you’re going overseas? Where will you be heading first?”

“I was thinking France,” Harry told him.

“Why there?” Neville asked. “Part of why you’re going is to get people to come back and Fleur could probably get her family to help with that?”

“…I’m going to visit Hermione,” Harry told him. Neville promptly kicked himself for not thinking of her.

“When will you be leaving?” He asked.

“Soon after Ophelia quits her job at the Ministry,” Harry said.

“Stay in touch?” Neville asked.

“Of course,” Harry smirked at him. “If I don’t get one of the mirrors the twins are working on, I’ll write. And they promised to make sure I get one when they’re done building them.”

“Okay,” Neville nodded. “Will they also being trying to figure out that purple fire thing?”

“Lavender told you?”

Neville nodded. “Yeah. Seems like we know what let you survived. Just don’t know why you have it.” He paused then hastily added, “not that you surviving is a bad thing. Just weird, given the circumstances.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry told him. “But I guess I could ask them to look into it. Not sure what they can do but who know with those two.”

“I sure don’t,” Neville muttered. “Those two are nuts sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Well, they do a good hiding it, the rest of the time.”

“True,” Harry agreed.

Neville leaned back in his chair. “It’s going to be weird, when you leave,” he told Harry. “It’s been sort comforting, having you here. And now you’ll be gone. It kinda makes me nervous.”

“You kinda make me sound like security blanket,” Harry told him.

“Well, for the public, you sorta are,” Neville pointed out. “Knowing you’re here makes people feel safer.”

“Well, I guess they need to learn to stand on their own feet,” Harry said softly. “You all did.”

“I guess,” Neville sighed. “We will miss you, though.”

“I’m not exiling myself,” Harry told him. “I’ll be back, even if it’s only for visits.”

“I know,” Neville answered. “It just won’t be same.

\---------------------

Ophelia was willing to sign the contract when Harry presented it to her after Bill looked it over. She handed in her notice and made sure to have someone with her during her last week so it would be easier for her replacement to pick up where she left off.

A few days later, all the preparations had been made. Harry and Ophelia had a list of names and contacts for their travel to France. They would only be spending a short time there. The Delacour family had made a start on locating where the evacuees had gone. Harry and Ophelia would drop in one them and talk before moving on. The next planned stop was Italy, followed by Bulgaria, the USA then Australia. These were the countries that most of the people leaving Britain had gone to.

The day they were leaving, Harry and Ophelia met up with several other members of DeMort to say their goodbyes before Bill gave them a ride in his car. Bill, Fred, George, Ginny, Neville, Luna and Lavender had managed to make time for goodbyes.

“Anyway, so far, you just say the name to contact someone,” Fred said, referring to the mirrors. “The mirror network is limited, it can only be synced to seven mirrors. We put us, Ginny, Neville, Susan, Lavender, and Ophelia’s mirrors on yours. We don’t really know how good they’ll be. We’ve gone all over Britain testing them, but we haven’t tried contacting people in other countries so there may be issues.”

“To be honest, we think it might be a good idea to design a version that is more like a cell phone,” George added. “You know, with a contacts list and everything. And texting in case you can’t get a good time to talk and need to leave a message.”

“Oh, and Ophelia?” Fred said. “We’re working on that idea of yours. We might have to to call in some support but it sounds like a fun project. We’ll let you know if it works out.”

“I see,” Ophelia nodded crisply.

“Project?” Harry asked.

“Never mind, ickle Harrikins,” George told him. “Even if it doesn’t work out, we should get some useful information from the whole experiment.”

Harry wondered if he should be worried or not.

“So how are we getting to France?” he asked Ophelia.

“We can either take an international portkey,” she said.

Harry pulled a face. He _hated_ portkeys.

“Or, we could take a plane,” she continued. “I have been informed of your distaste for travelling by portkey so I booked us to take a plane. We have two hours to catch our flight.”

“Thank you,” Harry heaved a relieved sigh. “So the magical travel between countries is by portkey.”

“In  theory, apparition is possible,” she shrugged.

“But the further you go, the more power you need,” Ginny said. “It’s better to use portkeys because you won’t accidently kill yourself by misjudging how far you’re going.”

“Has…has that happened before?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, it used to happen a lot,” Fred said. “That’s why there’s an age restriction on learning how.”

“I see,” Harry mumbled.

“Um…Harry?” Neville asked. “Would you mind giving Hermione a present?”

“Oh, sure,” Harry said, nodding. “What is it?”

“Just some non-magical sweets, a toy cat and a copy of Beedle the Bard, enchanted so it won’t get damaged easily,” Fred said, handing the wrapped box over. “We would have enchanted it to be completely damaged proof but we weren’t sure that was a good idea given…you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said quietly. Hermione hadn’t recovered and was still mentally a toddler. And Toddler Hermione hadn’t known about magic. If the care staff had let her know, then giving her enchanted objects would be fine. But if they hadn’t and Hermione picked up on the enchantments, she might get upset.

Let us know if she’s any better,” Lavender said. “Oh, and could you see if you can get any fashion magazines?”

“I’ll see,” Harry said.

“Thanks,” Lavender smiled. “Don’t hesitate to use me for a messenger for anyone not on your mirror.”

“And let us know if you make any progress with the purple fire thing,” Neville added. “If you figure it out, I wanna know.”

“Alright, I will,” Harry smiled.

“We should leave for the airport,” Ophelia said. “Unless you want to take a portkey there instead of a car?”

“Car please!” Harry said quickly.

“Hey, can we come to the airport with you?” Fred asked.

“Maybe next time,” Bill told him.

“Fine, but I wanna met them at the airport when they come back.”

“We’ll keep in touch, Fred,” Harry told him.

“I know,” the red head sighed. At this point, Luna spoke up.

“Hug?” She held out her arms. Harry hid a smile as he stepped forward and let Luna hug him. The others quickly joined, wrapping Harry in a group hug.

“You be careful, understand?” George said.

“If you get yourself killed, we’ll look up necromantic rituals so we can summon you back and yell at you,” Ginny added.

“Don’t forget you have us if you need help,” Lavender added.

“GROUP HUG!” Seamus yelled, as he announced his arrival and threw himself at the group. Chuckling, Dean, Parvati, Susan and Justin joined the group hug.

“Sorry we’re late,” Justin said.

“Justin and I can’t stay long,” Susan said apologetically. “It’s basically say our farewells and good lucks and run back to the Ministry.” She reached over and ruffled Harry’s hair. “I hope everything goes okay.”

“Take care of yourself,” Justin added.

“Don’t forget to stay in touch,” Seamus added. “Seriously. I plan on making the greatest booze and I wanna share it with everyone when I succeed.”

“We’ll miss you, Harry,” Luna said softly.

“Hey guys, I know we have two hours but don’t take too long,” Bill told them.

After several minutes of goodbyes, Harry, Ophelia and Bill got into the car and drove off, Bill focused on the road ahead, Ophelia seated primly and reading her daily planner, Harry looking back through the rear window and waving back at his friends.

Harry blinked back tears.

How weird. He had left before. From first to fifth year, he had left Privet Drive with relief and joy and left Hogwarts with caution and disappointment each year. He had never wanted to cry at these leavings so why did he want to now?

Why was this leaving sad?

“They’ll be waiting for you when you come back,” Ophelia said matter of factly, noticing his wet eyes. “They will still welcome you home.”

“I guess,” Harry said softly as the waving group faded from sight.

He would miss them. But he would come back. Maybe not to stay, but he would come back. He would make sure of it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wonder why the evacuees went to France, Italy, Bulgaria, America and Australia, it's fairly simple. American and Australia are both English speaking countries so it would be easier for most, especially if they only speak English. France and Bulgaria are implied to have ties to Magical Britain given they have a history together (The Triwizard Tournament) and during Harry's fourth year, they would have meet people from these countries who they asked for help. As for Italy, Blaise was one of the people who ran the escape lines for a while and his family has significant political influence which they exploited in addition to taking advantage of some shady connections to get people in.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ophelia arrive in France

Harry felt sorry for Ophelia. The poor girl had been quite green during the flight. She was more than relieved when they arrived at the Nimes Airport and disembarked.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I believe so,” she said shakily before turning to a nearby attendant and getting his attention. “Would it be possible, for future flights, to sedate myself beforehand and have my companion take me on board?”

“I think that would be interpreted as kidnapping by the staff,” Harry noted.

“I’m afraid your friend is correct,” the attendant told Ophelia. “However, there are medicines for airsickness.”

“I see,” Ophelia said, looking displeased at the notion of being coherent during future flights. “Thank you, I will look them up.” She turned to Harry. “William and his wife have arranged for her family to provide support to us while in France.”

“Oh? Where will we be meeting them?” Harry asked, after taking a minute to remember that “Bill” was short for “William”.

“They will be picking us up here, at the airport,” Ophelia answered. “They also offered to accommodate us while we are in the area. They have started contacting the evacuees they have located and talking to them about returning.”

“That’s nice of them,” Harry noted.

“They love their daughters,” Ophelia responded. “And not only is their eldest residing in a country that will benefit from their efforts, but they probably remember your actions during the Second Task.”

“Good point,” Harry admitted. Although it had turned out Gabrielle wasn’t in any danger. While there was a feud between the Veela and Merfolk, people exaggerated intensity of the feuding. The worst the merfolk would have done to the girl was literally throw her onto the shore. A bit rough, and she would get mostly likely get some bruises but they were hardly going to murder an unconscious child. If anything, Fleur was the one who would have been in danger since her being awake and armed made her a potential threat.

“There is our ride,” Ophelia nodded at a sign held up, proclaiming “Potter and Lestrange”. Harry vaguely recognized the man as Fleur’s father. At least, he thought it was her father. He wasn’t sure since he had only met the man at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

The two English magical walked over to the Frenchman. “Mr Delacour?” Harry asked.

“Bonjour, lad,” the man nodded at him. “Mr Potter, I assume? My Fleur warned me of your different appearance.”

“She did?” Harry wondered if he should be happy about that. He liked the fact the public wouldn’t recognize him as the Boy-Who-Lived unless he was glamoured but Fleur was aware of that and wouldn’t have told her father if she thought he would blab, would she?

“Yes, she also asked me to be discreet. Do you have an alternative name to go by?” he asked.

“No, sorry,” Harry shook his head.

“No matter,” Mr Delacour. “You’re not here to be introduced to everyone and Fleur mentioned you’ll be wearing a glamour when talking to your countrymen. Shall we be off?”

Harry and Ophelia followed Mr Delacour to where he had a car waiting.

That afternoon, they appeared at the Magical Hospital, St Bellamy, located next to a park.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Ophelia said politely in French.  “We are here to see a Mademoiselle Hermione Granger”

“Just a moment,” the receptionist replied, as she typed something on the screen in front of her. She spoke in rapid French to Ophelia, the British witch answering fluently. Harry fidgeted, readjusting the package in his arms. Unlike Ophelia, he only knew a little of basic French, that Hermione had taught him. It was nowhere near enough to be fluent. He knew a few French words and that was it. He certainly didn’t know enough to understand the full exchange between Ophelia and the French witch, especially since they spoke so swiftly and fluently. Harry wondered why they had a computer. Did this mean that it really was Hogwart’s wards that screwed up electrical objects?

“Mademoiselle Granger is within the Tasse Building,” the receptionist reported. She handed over a map and marked where they were and where the Tasse building was. Ophelia thanked her and led Harry away.

“Why are we going back outside?” Harry asked.

“Apparently, Granger isn’t in the main hospital building but in a different building,” Ophelia answered. “It’s seems it is specialised for cases like Granger, when the problem is mental and isn’t a quick fix.”

“So…it’s a mental ward?” Harry asked quietly.

“…Pretty much,” Ophelia said.

The Tasse Building wasn’t that far. They just had to cross to the other side of the parking lot. The entry way had two doors, the inner door needing a staff member to unlock it from the inside.

Ophelia once again spoke to the staff member, this one being a wizard who led them into the building. Harry eyed the place as they passed through. There was a wide, open room, a door leading into what looked like a dining room, a door out into a fenced off garden and two corridors leading away on opposite sides of the room, one which was only identified as such due to the witch that walked through the secure-looking doors while Harry was looking. There was also an office with the upper half of the walls transparent and door leading outside inside. In addition to the uniformed staff, there were a few people wandering around. A few looked normal, one was dressed in his pyjamas and another…Harry blinked at the polka-dotted top and pink-striped pants. Lavender and Parvati would have probably been horrified at that combination. But the wearer seemed content, quietly reading, a small smile on their face.

The wizard led them down the unsecured corridor

Harry needed to get Ophelia to translate for him before they left.  He wanted to know what progress Hermione had made, how long they thought it would take for her to recover, set up some sort of contact and so.

Harry had most of Hermione’s things in the Grimmauld Manor. He had never really known her parents, having only met them once or twice so he didn’t know how to track them down so they could take her stuff.

And to be honest, he didn’t want to give her things away, not even to her parents.

Harry wondered if Hermione remembered now. If she remembered arguing with him, sitting down doing homework together, the evenings they spent in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, basking in the warmth and sometimes cooking different foods.

The time they had tried for popcorn had been hilarious. Poor Ron hadn’t heard of popcorn before so when it had started popping, he had been a bit alarmed. Needless to say, the redhead had promptly sworn Harry and Hermione to secrecy. He had been horrified to realize the twins were on the stairs and had seen the whole thing. Especially since the whole incident had given them _ideas_.

Hopefully, Hermione remembered more of those memories than the ones that came after fifth year.

Not that all of them were bad, it was just that there were more bad memories than good ones. They had group study sessions so even knew the basics of Runes and Arithmancy (and while Harry found he liked runes, he loathed Arithmancy, Ron was the opposite) and some of the time, it would go off tangent. Harry was pretty sure most of these tangents involved Luna. The one with trying to use Arithmancy to devise a way to beat Riddle to death with a bunch of bludgers had definitely been Oliver Wood.

Then there had been the language lessons. Contrary to others had thought, it hadn't been constant action. There are been stretches of time when there had been nothing to do. Those of DeMort who had known other languages had taken to teaching others in order to pass time. Once, the twins had snuck into a backyard and had seen a game show on TV through the window. They had then insisted on coming with their own versions, based on the language lessons. 

It had certainly made the lessons more interesting and competitive.

Harry remembered talking to Ron, the redhead’s face earnest, hopeful and eye shining as he discussed something he had planned. Harry had agreed to keep it secret until it was time.

Did Hermione know what Ron had been planning? Of what he  had been preparing for but would never do?

Harry shook his head as the wizard stopped, spoke rapidly in French (too rapidly for Harry to understand) to Ophelia and went back the way they came.

“What’s this?” he asked Ophelia.

“It’s Granger’s bedroom,” the witch answered.

“They locked her up?” Harry scowled.

“Mr Delacour gave them notice she would be receiving visits when we left his place. They thought privacy would be appreciated,” Ophelia responded.

‘ _What did Hermione think?’_ Harry wondered to himself. It seemed like the workers were just watching the patients here, to make sure they didn’t do anything they weren’t supposed to, but they seemed to keep their distance. Wasn’t that a bit creepy?

What progress had they made with Hermione? Would she recognize him? How much did she remember? Harry paled at the thought that Hermione might remember Ron dying or the events that lead to his death and her presence here. She would be a wreck if she remembered that. Harry was pretty sure Hermione had felt differently for Ron than she did for him.

“I’ll stay out here,” Ophelia said.

“Okay,” Harry nodded, readjusting the package in his arms so he could open the door. “Can you talk to someone here about the sort of treatment Hermione’s getting? And how she’s been doing and stuff? How much progress she’s made and all that?”

Ophelia looked him, face oddly sympathetic. “I will see what they have to say,” she answered in a strangely soft tone. She paused for a moment, studying his face then shook her head and walked back the way they came.

Harry watched her exit the corridor then turned to Hermione’s door. He took a breath and knocked on the door before opening it.

“Hey,” he said, poking his head around the door.

At the sound of his voice, Hermione turned to look at him, a smile lighting up her scarred face at the sight of him.

“Hi!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's French is very limited at this point. Anything other than the basics or spoken too rapidly is beyond him.
> 
> The Tasse Building is similar to the Closed Ward at St Mungos. However, it is instead in it's own building with a high security area for those who are dangerous and it's own potions storage and such. Dangerous patients are kept in the secure wing, either drugged with potions or restrained while others are left to their own devices in the "open ward" of the building.
> 
> The fact that the French Magicals have a separate building does not mean they are better than the British Magicals in regards to mental health. They just do things differently.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's visit with Hermione.
> 
> It doesn't go as he hoped.

Harry was thrilled at the bright smile on Hermione’s face. It wasn’t a polite smile you’d give to an unknown visitor. It was a genuinely happy smile. So Hermione remembered him! The scars on her face distorted her cheerful expression. But Harry couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by how the pale flesh marred her face. She was getting better!

Harry beamed at her happily.

“My name is Hermione Granger,” she continued, wiping the smile from his face. “Who are you?”

“I’m Harry,” he answered, forcing a grin on his face. “Harry Potter.”

Hermione beamed at him. “It’s nice to meet you,” she chirped, and now Harry could clearly hear the little-girl tone to her voice. “Do you live here?”

“No, I’m just visiting,” Harry told her, looking around the room. He frowned slightly. Didn’t they send Crookshanks with Hermione? Where was he? “Do you mind me visiting you?”

Her smile grew wider. “You’re visiting me?” she squealed in delight, running across the room to hug him. “Yay! I never get visitors, the only people who come and see me are the people who work here and they don’t talk to me!” she complained.

“They don’t talk to you at all?” Harry frowned.

“No! Well, a little,” she admitted. “But it’s always to get me up and dressed and to make sure I eat my food and that I have a bath and that I go to bed and that’s it!” Hermione whined. “If I try to talk to them they either ignore me or tell me to go away!”

“I see…” Harry muttered, thinking of all the curses he now knew thanks to the Black Dome Incident. He was pretty sure there were many more. He should really should discourage this sort of neglect. It would be the responsible thing to do. Really. It’s not like was normal to pretty much ignore patients with mental problems, was it? How did Ginny cast the bat-bogey hex again?

“I don’t even get to choose what goes on my toast,” Hermione continued, a scowl on her face. “It doesn’t matter if I want peanut butter, or strawberry jam or anything! I get what I’m given and I can’t swap with someone else who has what I want or I get locked up in the blue room!”

“Blue room?” Harry echoed. Did the information from the Black Dome Incident come with an explosive castration curse? Actually, forget that. A simple _reducto_ to the groin would function as an explosive castration curse, no specific spell required.

“Yeah. It’s not so bad,” Hermione admitted. “It has bouncy walls and lots of pillows and stuffed toys but it can get pretty boring in there after a while.”

Okay, no exploding people’s crotches, Harry decided. That was a bit much. He would stick to less sadistic cursing.

“But I really don’t like when they don’t let me out to use the toilet before I wet myself,” Hermione huffed. Harry felt his eye twitch.  “But that doesn’t really happen a lot. I can go for _ages_ without them putting me in there.”

“I see,” Harry nodded with forced calm.

“But they don’t listen to me either!” Hermione complained. “Sometimes I’m bleeding and they don’t do anything but make me out on these big nappies! They sometimes give me something to drink when my tummy hurts lots but they don’t do anything to stop the bleeding!”

Harry frowned as Hermione talked. That made no sense. Why would they respond to bleeding by giving her diapers?  Why not bandages or something? What would a diaper do for….Then, as Hermione continued to chatter, Harry realised what sort of bleeding they were talking about.

He conceded that it would be awkward to explain menstruation to someone who was mentally a very small child. But even with all the awkwardness, wouldn’t be better to let her know the bleeding was normal rather than having her freak out every month? A child could understand that sort of thing, right?

Harry made a mental note to arrange for Hermione to get a sex-ed book. No way was he explaining things to her in person! The healers and medi-witches-and-wizards could do that, it was their job, wasn’t it?

“So, when you’re not in the blue room, what do you do?” Harry asked her.  Her face lit up.

“I have some paper and crayons so I can draw. And I have books I can read,” Hermione babbled. “And I have Crookshanks. He’s gone outside though,” she added, pointing at the small window high up.

“Does he leave a lot?” Harry asked. Hermione shook her head.

“Sometimes he goes out but he always comes back,” she said. “He seems grumpy with the people here sometimes.”

“I wonder why?” Harry mumbled sarcastically under his breath. He smiled at Hermione. “So, ‘Mione, some of my friends put together a present. Do you want it?”

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Please!” she squealed, holding out her hands. Harry smiled and gave her the box. Beaming, Hermione turned away, plopped onto the floor and placed the package on the ground in front of her. Smiling, Harry dropped to the next to her.

Hermione gleefully ripped the wrapping paper apart. Actually, Harry mused to himself, she seemed to be more focused on destroying the paper than opening the box. Finally, the paper had been ripped off and the bushy haired witch started to pull the box open.

“KITTY!” she cheered, pulling the ginger plush out of the back, eyes sparkling. She cuddled it to her. “It’s so fluffy!” she gushed happily. She hugged it for a few moments longer then put it to the side and pulled out a book.

“Beedle the bard,” she read, squinting at the cover. Harry wondered if he should take her reading ability as an indication of recovery. If she was mentally a little kid, wouldn’t she have forgotten how to read? Then again, this _was_ Hermione. It was possible she learnt how to read around the same time she learnt how to walk and talk.

“I don’t know this storybook,” she frowned, as if personally offended by this fact.

“I guess that means you have a bunch of new stories, then,” Harry said, wondering if she could read enough of the stories to understand them.

Hermione beamed at him before looking in the box again.

“Lollies!” She reached in and pulled out a bag of lollipops and a bag of gummy bears. She smiled happily before her face fell. She looked at Harry. “I’m not supposed to have lollies. Mummy and Daddy say they’re bad for my teeth.”

“Just make sure you don’t eat too many too fast and it should be fine,” Harry told her. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

“I won’t,” Hermione huffed. “I’m not a baby!”

“…I know…” Harry said quietly. She wasn’t a baby. But she also wasn’t the Hermione he knew. She had no memory of the troll, of rescuing Sirius, of going to the Department of Mysteries. She didn’t remember anything about him. “…Do you want me to read to you?” he asked, trying to his pull his thoughts into a different direction.

“ _I’ll_ read to _you_ ,” Hermione announced, picking up her new book and opening it. “The Wizard and the Hopping Pot,” she read slowly.

Harry listened to Hermione read slowly, so different to how to would blurt out words rapidly as she speed along the pages back before she was scarred.

Towards the end of the story, Crookshanks slipped in through the window. He nuzzled against Hermione, giving the toy cat a disdainful look then turned to look at Harry before settling into Hermione’s lap, purring loudly. Harry silently watched the girl and her cat, listening to Hermione read.

“The end,” Hermione announced before turning to Harry. “Want me to read you another?” she asked.

Blinking, Harry shook his head. “Sorry, I have to go,” he murmured. “It was nice seeing you.”

Hermione pouted. “Okay, bye,” she said sullenly. Harry sighed.

“Bye, ‘Mione,” he said, reaching out and patting Crookshanks on the head. “Take care of her,” he told the feline. Crookshanks gave him a look that plainly stated Harry was a fool for feeling he needed to say that.”

Slowly, Harry got up, and with one last look at Hermione, exited the room.

Ophelia was waiting outside. Harry didn’t speak as he made his way down the corridor, ignoring the wizard who tried to talk to him as he headed for the exit and left the building. He walk briskly into the park and dropped down behind a tree, hugging his knees to his chest, Ophelia following behind him silently.

“She didn’t know me,” Harry said softly. “I was a completely stranger to her. And she…she wasn’t the Hermione I knew. She was a little girl with Hermione’s face, that’s all.” Harry felt tears welling up in his eyes.

“She doesn’t remember Ron taking down a troll with a levitation charm, she doesn’t remember Hogwarts, she doesn’t remember going to the World Cup, she doesn’t remember when we sang all those cheesy pirate songs on her birthday because someone said it was Talk-Like-A-Pirate day. She doesn’t remember anything.” Harry buried his face in arms and started to cry.

Ophelia said nothing. She put up some privacy charms and sat next Harry, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he wept for the girl who no longer knew him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry people, Hermione isn't better.
> 
> So while the place isn't physically abusive, they do tend to demean and neglect their patients a bit. It's not as bad as some fictional asylums but that doesn't make it good, either.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns how to ride a motorbike. He also has his first crash.

 

Finally, Harry stopped crying and wiped his face.

“Ophelia? Did you find out what treatment she’s getting?” he asked. He couldn’t fix Hermione but he could try and make things better for her.

“She is given calming potions when she is agitated and sleeping potions when she is unable to sleep of her own accord,” Ophelia reported. “She has no dietary restrictions so she is on a standard diet plan. She is not prone to violence or self harm so she does not require a constant minder.”

“…Is that it?” Harry asked.

Ophelia shrugged uneasily. “There is…not a lot that can be done about these sort of conditions,” she said reluctantly.  “The most that can be done is give them a secure place and make sure they don’t hurt themselves or others.”

Harry frowned. He didn’t know much about psychology but he was sure there was more to it than that. There had been a bi-polar girl in Little Whinging.  Harry didn’t know her well but she seemed to be just fine. Last he heard, she was going to some college. Was this an area that magical knew nothing because they had never bothered?

Harry had no intention of leaving Hermione to be treated like that. He could arrange for her to live in her own place with house elf looking after her. She wouldn’t be left locked up until she wet herself. She could choose what to have on her toast. She wouldn’t be ignored. She would be treated like a _person_ rather than a thing.

But what about the others? What sort of treatment did they get? What about Neville’s parents? Would he have them back if someone had actually _tried_?

“They can’t treat people like that,” he said firmly. “It’s not right.” Ophelia frowned.

“Even with your current popularity, you can’t just demand people change things,” she told him. “It will take time and support from others. And the progress will be very slow, most likely.”

“So I just shouldn’t bother?” Harry demanded.

Ophelia sighed. “If you try, I would not expect progress any time soon.” She did not expect him to make any progress, at least not for several decades.

\-------------------------------

“Mr Delacour said he had made arrangements for our transport throughout France, providing we do not mind doing some work for it,” Ophelia mentioned as they arrived at the Delacour manor. “Apparently, the Delacours and other wealthy families fund a performance troop.”

“…Why?” Harry asked, confused as to why magical families would fund a performance troop. He was a bit surprised at how fast they had finished contacting the local evacuees but then again, he shouldn’t been since most had relocated elsewhere and the ones who had remained had been contacted by the Delacours before the pair had even left Britain.

“Basically, the people running the troop keep a hand in the non-magical world, can tell if there are any risks to the statue of secrecy and provide information to be used to cover up potential breeches,” Ophelia shrugged. “That’s the official story, anyway. In practice, it gives them a place to send their kids when they’ve graduated but don’t have enough experience or maturity to be employed in the magical world.”

“So…it’s a dumping ground for immature brats?”

“Well…yes, in some ways,” Ophelia admitted. “But it can give some graduates a chance to earn money to look into other careers. Like how the twins got money to open a shop, somehow.” She frowned. “Although I’m not sure how. Mr Delacour has a nephew who is one of the performers.”

“What sort of troop is it?” Harry asked.

\----------------------------

The manic grin had Harry wondering if he should run from Mr Delacour’s nephew-by-marriage. The older man had blond hair streaked with neon-green, hazel eyes and a number of freckles splashed across his face. The man had introduced himself as Clement Boivin (“but call me Clem, okay?”) and he was a stuntman for Cirque De La Magie.

Cirque De La Magie travelled around the country putting on a wide variety of acts, including plays, motorbike stunts, dances and more. Harry had briefly wondered how a travelling performance group could do all that before realising they probably used magic. He wasn’t sure how they pulled that off without non-magicals getting curious about how they got everything set up and taken down so fast.

The Delacours had already spoken to Cirque De La Magie about escorting the two around Paris. It wasn’t much of an issue since they would be travelling to most of the places the evacuees had gone or at least close enough to apparate to.

The only exception was a handful of women who had joined the Red Riding Hood Sisters. Harry doubted that they would return to live in Britain although they may be interested in visiting and keeping in touch with people back there that didn’t leave. At any rate, it wouldn’t be right to leave them out. So Harry and Ophelia would take a portkey to them then take one to the Airport to go to Italy, where Blaise would be waiting if he made there (he did have to look out for his family’s interests in Britain, after all).

For their time with Cirque De La Magie (which Harry was sure meant Circus of Magic), Clem would be looking out for them. Which lead to the current situation.

“So have you ever been on a motorbike before?” Clem asked, eyes twinkling. Harry remembered all the times Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and felt that he should take twinkling eyes as a warning. It turned out Clem was a stuntman in the troop, one who used motorbikes for his stunts. And he was determined to teach Harry, to explain his presence, with Ophelia as a stage manager in training. Although, given it would only take about six weeks to get evacuees in each location, Harry didn’t think it was really necessary. Why not pass them off as stagehands or cleaners or something? And how much could he learn in that time?

“Uh…My godfather had one he used to take me on when I was a baby,” Harry said. “And when he was hiding the Order headquarters, he expanded the basement and taught me how to drive one there.” Harry paused. “Although the most I could do was ride in circles and pop wheelies.”

“Good, we have something to work with,” Clem said cheerfully. Harry considered running away but he would have to deal with Clem sooner or later. Besides, how bad could it be?

\----------------------------------

“I had to jinx it,” Harry muttered, as he roared up the ramp and soared through the air, it already being apparent the bike wouldn’t make the distance and he would crash. “This is going to suck.”

It was a simple stunt. Ride up the ramp, fly across the gap, land on the other ramp and ride down. Only Harry had failed to build up enough speed. So he was heading for the second ramp. And while he didn’t have the speed to make the jump, he _did_ have the speed to ensure the impact would hurt.

The sound of the bike hitting the ramp seemed impossibly loud in Harry’s ears as his head jerked back. Pain flared across his body. Then it seemed like the world silent for several long seconds as the pain rapidly faded.

“…I was right,” he muttered. “That did suck.”

Clem ran up to him, alarmed. He was accompanied by the troop healer. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry groaned, lifting an arm. The healer quickly started casting charms. Then paused and cast them again. She blinked and started muttering to herself.

“Huh,” Clem blinked. “Looks like you didn’t get a single injury.”

“That’s good.”

“So let’s try again!”

“Ugh!”

\-------------------------------

The lessons with Clem revealed that the weird purple fire flared up whenever he got hurt and healed any injuries. Even those that should be fatal.

Ophelia nearly strangled Harry when she found out some of the stunts he was pulling after that discovery. But the lack of risk meant Harry was learning faster than he would otherwise since he didn’t need a recovery time or anything. And he was less cautious than someone else would have been. Although the whole rapid recovery was a bit freaky at first.

Ophelia eyed his stunts warily, a concerned frown on her face. Harry wasn’t sure why she was worried. At first it was a bit scary but now it was pretty fun. Thrilling even. Kinda like diving on a broomstick at highspeed and pulling up at the last minute. Sirius would have loved it all.

Harry wondered Hermione and Ron would have thought of it. Hermione would have watched, leaning forward on the edge of seat and chewing her lip. Ron would have been leaning forward too, but instead of being anxious, he would have been cheering. Or cringing as Harry crashed. Maybe snickering a bit once he knew Harry was fine if it was a spectacularly stupid crash.

It wasn’t long before Harry was performing in the show. Granted, his performance was less pulling off impressive stunts like Clem and more aweing the crowd by coming out of nasty crashes unharmed. He was improving and working his way up to more difficult stunts. He was getting a bit of a reputation as an immortal stuntman. The announcer had taken to referring to him as hated by death itself.

The stage persona Harry had adopted was entirely Fred and George’s fault. He had mirror-called them and they had taken to using what little Japanese they knew (which was “-sama”, “-sensei”, kawaii, gaki and a few cuss words) and started proclaiming him to be the “great and immortal Skull-sama”. The twins had some drinks and things had escalated, resulting a situation that Harry couldn’t resist mocking them for. So he took to calling himself the “Great and Powerful Skull-sama”. Hey, they were the ones who didn’t shut off their mirror when things started to get embarrassing for them. So why shouldn’t Harry mock them for it? Especially since Angelina had walked in and started recording once she realized what was going on.

The twins were going to choke when they found out he was calling himself that on stage.

They had met with several refugees from Britain. Some had agreed to move back but most hadn’t given a definite answer. Harry wasn’t sure how many would come back and how many would choose to stay in France.

They had just one location left in France. The group that had joined up with the Red Riding Hood Sisters.

Harry didn’t think they would be coming back but he was curious about this Sisterhood. Hopefully, when they met them tomorrow, they would make a good impression on the women.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are wondering, Clem does have a French accent. I suck at writing accents so to avoid being hunted and lynched for my atrocious attempts, I’m just not writing them.
> 
> I had always planned for Harry to have started the whole “Skull-sama” thing as a way of making fun of the twins. Couldn’t figure out what sort of incident it refers to so it’ll be staying as a noodle incident.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ophelia visit the Order of The Red Riding Hood Sisters.

The Red Riding Hood Sisters had their headquarters located  partially underground in the Vosges Mountain. It was built into a steep slope, the front on the surface and the rest underground. Harry as surprised to find it warm and cosy. The Slytherin common room had been underground and it had been cold and damp.

“Well, it was under the lake,” Ophelia noted when he commented. “So of course it was.” She looked around as they walked behind Michelle, the blonde who had greeted them and allowed them entry. “I would imagine this location was chosen because it is so far from bodies of water that would cause it to be cold and damp.”

“So what do they do for plumbing?” Harry asked, his green-glamored eyes confused.

The blonde turned and gave him an odd look before realization crossed her face. “You are from a muggle family?” she asked in a heavy accent. Her blond hair was tied up in a bun with a braid wrapped around it with some locks loose on either side of her face. Under her red cape and hood, she wore a black knee length skirt and a white blouse.

“Yeah, why?” Harry asked.

Ophelia snickered. “Most magical buildings don’t have plumbing,” she explained. “They use water runes for taps, shows and so on and vanishing runes down in the pipe where you can’t touch it accidently.”

“…How did I not know this?” Harry asked. Then paused. “Wait. If there is no plumbing, then why were there pipes for the Basilisk to travel through at Hogwarts?” 

Ophelia considered the question. “I assume the pipes weren’t there for plumbing but where installed either for the basilisk or to give the house elves a discreet means of traveling,” she answered, looking curious. “Their version of apparation makes a distinct popping sound.”

“…Basilisk?” Michelle said, confused, turning to look at them.

“Uh…there was kinda one in our school, in a secret chamber,” Harry said. “But don’t worry, it’s dead!”

“Basilisk? Near children?” the Sister said flatly.

“Well, there was, but not anymore,” Harry told her.

Michelle stared blankly before turning and continuing onwards.

“Here,” she said, stopping at a door after a few more minutes of walking. She knocked on the door. A voice answered in French and she opened the door.

A woman sat behind a desk, going through papers. The brown-haired woman had her wavy hair in a ponytail. Like the rest of the Sisterhood, she had a red hood and cape. Underneath, Harry could see a black and white top with laces.

Michelle chattered at her rapidly for a few moments.

The woman stared at her than at Harry.

“Michelle says she mistranslated some of your words. To her, it sounded like you were saying you had a basilisk in your school,” she said slowly.

“…No, there was,” Harry said. “It’s dead though. Has been for about five years.”

The woman blinked. “I…see.” She shook her head. “I don’t recall hearing that Hogwarts was shut down.”

“It wasn’t,” Ophelia said helpfully.

“…” The woman stared at them for a moment then shook her head muttering something that Harry was sure was along the lines of “ _Englishmen!_ ”. She turned to Michelle and said something. Michelle gaped at her for a moment before another comment had her gathering herself.

Michelle turned and gave them a polite nod before excusing herself and leaving.

The woman behind the desk put some papers to one side and gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Please take a seat,” she offered. “My name is Teresa, I am the current Elder Sister of the Sisterhood.”

“I’m Harry Potter and this is Ophelia,” Harry introduced himself and his companion.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Ophelia said politely. Teresa nodded back.

“I understand you wish to ask some of our Sisters to return to Britain?” she asked, her eyes sharp.

“We don’t really expect them to,” Harry admitted. “But we want them to know that it’s safe to come back if they want and to consider returning for a memorial once the plans have been finalized.”

“We hoping that many of the evacuees will return to help stabilise the economy,” Ophelia explained. “With the massive toll and the people still recovering, the economy needs to recover from the war. That is why we are seeking out refugees. In hopes that some of them will come back.”

“Some?” Teresa echoed. “Not all?”

“It would be unreasonable to expect everyone to be emotionally capable of resuming lives in Britain,” Ophelia responded.

“There were people murdered in the streets, people tortured, people who watched their families being tortured…” Harry said quietly. “That not everyone can bring themselves to return, even for a visit…it’s to be expected.”

“And you will not try to force anyone?” Teresa asked.

“No, we won’t,” Harry assured her. “We’re just telling people going back is an option. The fighting is over and things are…not fixed,” he admitted. “Not yet. There’s still a lot of work, but we’re getting there. And we’re hoping to make things better, so that it won’t happen again.”

“People are working hard,” Harry said. “Those who fought to make a difference. Those who are still fighting. Because the war being over isn’t enough. There’s still healing to happen. There’s still corruption that needs to be rooted out. But we’re doing what we can.”

Teresa studied him. “You’re being very honest, aren’t you?” she said. ““We’re hoping to make things better”. “Things are not fixed”. You could have given me the impression things were going wonderfully, but you’ve made it clear there’s no miracles happening here.” She didn’t mention it, but she thought better of him for it. Honesty was better than empty promises of a better future and miracles. She fell silent for a moment, thinking.

“I will tell my Sisters,” she announced. “I will make no promises, that they will be aware that the war is over and your people are doing what you can to repair the damage and prevent it from happening again. But I would like to make a request.”

“Which is?” Ophelia asked.

“Has anyone developed an ability like this?” And the Elder Sister’s hand filled with crimson fire.

\----------------------------

“Soulfire?” Harry echoed.

“It is not an entirely accurate name,”” Teresa admitted. “It seems more about will and determination. And the soul is made up of more than just that.”

“Yours are red though,” Harry observed. “Mine are purple.”

“You have Amethyst soulfire then, while I have Ruby” Teresa explained. “The Sisterhood has had members with nine different types. Well, ten if you take into account that there are two kinds of Amber. Ethereal and Worldly. Ethereal seems to allow some sort of connection with your surroundings while Worldly has some sort of gravity manipulation ability.”

“There are others here who can use it?” Harry asked. “Can all of the Sisters?”

Teresa shook her head. “Only a small portion of us can, and most of those who can have no magical ability.”

“You have people without magic here?” Harry asked.

“Yes, they are squibs or the siblings or spouses of witches and wizards,” Teresa replied. “And they make up most of our soulfire adapts.”

“It’s not a form of magic?” Ophelia questioned.

“No,” Teresa answered. “In fact, it is theorized that magic makes it more difficult to develop any abilities with Soulfire.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Ophelia asked.

“Because of those of us with soulfire and magic, we gained our abilities when in a desperate situation while magically exhausted,” Teresea answered. “Only when we had a time we wanted something desperately and had no magic to use did the soulfire manifest.”

Harry tilted his head to one side. “Why?”

“Magic can be very responsive,” Ophelia mused. “As children, we have accidental magic that responds to the smallest of whims sometimes. Maybe when you are in a situation where you’re likely to develop soulfire, your magic responds first and removes the cause of what would have activated. So only in a situation where there is no magic available, whether due to exhaustion or a natural lack , can soulfire appear.”

“That is my theory, though not in exact words,” Teresa admitted. “Magic doesn’t need as much resolve to react so it tends to react first.”

“So would soulfire be more common with non-magicals?”Harry asked.

Teresa winced. “Yes. And about that…” She scratched her cheek. “There may be a risk of never being seen again because some odd type of dementor took you away for using or talking about it in the wrong place.” She paused. “Granted, we don’t know that it’s why they were taken by the robed figures with black fire and chains but the common trend is that they reveal their abilities, followed by those things showing up… don’t be open with it,” Teresa warned. “Not in public.”

Harry nodded. “Okay.”

“What is soulfire capable of?” Ophelia asked.

“The abilities of soulfire depends on the type you have,” Teresa responded. “Amethyst multiplies or increases. If you have one button, you can make many or make it bigger. You can increase the power in your attacks or in your shields.”

Ophelia considered. “Can you increase your reserves?” she asked. “Multiple the magic and energy you have left so you have unlimited reserves?”

Teresa winced. “There was a Sister who used Amethyst soulfire like that,” she answered. “She was well before my time. But one day in a fight against cockatrice…the fight went on too long and when it was over, everything she had left was created by her soulfire so when she stopped maintaining the technique, she died. Some techniques can be dangerous, or even lethal to the user.”

“I see,” Ophelia murmured.

“There are some obscure documents about soulfire,” Teresa said. Apparently there are about fourteen types. The ones we’ve seen are Ruby, Amethyst, Citrine, Emerald, Sapphire, and Iolite which seem to be linked with Ethereal Amber and Jade and Diamond link to Worldly Amber.”

“What of the others?” Harry asked.

“They seem to link with Worldly Amber,” Teresa said. “Each Amber seems to have six Flames it connects to.” She closed her eyes. “I only know what I’ve read but there’s one with some illusion ability which I think is called Sardonyx. Jasper which has some sort of decay ability, and Fire Opal which does something to the ground and rocks. We find references to the one more but we don’t know anything about it.”

“So you haven’t met anyone with those ones?” Harry asked.

Teresa shook her head. “There are no records of the Sisterhood encountering people with those types of Soulfire,” she said. “For the others, there have been Sisters who either used them or knew someone who did. We have information on their exploration with the soulfire’s capabilities.”

Harry looked at her. “You know, when I came here, I didn’t know anything about soulfire, how it was used, possible risks and how to get in touch with other people who use it. I just wanted to know if the Sisterhood had anything to do with the Red Riding Hood story,” he said.

Teresa facepalmed. “Before you ask, there was no crossdressing wolf of any kind! It did not talk! And it did not wear a dress and impersonate a dead grandmother. It was a wendigo that broke into a house, ate an old lady and nearly killed a kid when she came home!”

“…You guys get asked that a lot, don’t you?” Harry asked.

“You have _no_ idea,” came the groan.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“…If you’re wondering how the true story ends, the girl’s name was Isabella, the hunter that saved her adopted her and taught her how to defend herself and she founded the Order of The Red Riding Hood Sisters.”

“Oh. Okay,” Harry nodded.

Ophelia coughed. “Would it be possible to have a look at the records of what people have found is possible with soulfire?”

“…I’ll have copies made.”

Harry decided that the trip to the Red Riding Hood Sisters went very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned on making magic reduce the chances of awakening Flames for a while. Flames are known as the “Flames of Dying Will,” indicating you need a strong resolve to initially activate them. Whereas as magic, no resolve need. I doubt Harry desperately wanted to turn his teacher’s hair blue that one time. So in a situation where you’re likely to activate your flames, like with Tunsa and the dog, your magic is more likely to take action first, leaving your Flames latent. 
> 
> Ethereal are Sky Flames, Worldly are Earth Flames. Jade are Forest Flames, Diamond are Glacier Flames, Sardonyx Desert, Jasper is swamp and Fire Opal is Mountain. I couldn’t find what the last Flames of Earth were so I left that out.
> 
> And no, I did not create the Red Riding Hood Sisters. They belong to the Dark Parables games.


End file.
